Angelus Erroneous: Fabricati Diem
by Spike 558
Summary: The follow up to Angelus Erroneous. The further adventures of Narc and his fellow renegades, fighting Orks and themselves, as they struggle to survive beyond the confines of Imperial space and the Emperor's gaze.
1. Alpha

**Title:** Angelus Erroneous: Fabricati Diem

**Author**: Spike

**Chapter:** One

The day was coming to an end. Already the sun was well on its way into setting, thus casting various streaks of red and orange across the evening sky. Already, the various bird calls the filtered through the jungle on a daily basis were coming to an end and silence began creeping its way across the jungle.

That was, until the jungle was rocked with an enormous explosion. This was followed soon after a cacophony of loud bestial roars and the sound of boltgun ammunition being fired in a random fashion.

This was an Ork world. And since when has such a thing as silence ever existed on an Ork World?

A small group of the greenskins had been making their way through the jungle as nosily as possible. They certainly were an ugly lot, each boasting the usual characteristics of their trace: Beedy red eyes, a large of muscles and an impressive selection of sharp teeth situated within a massive jaw. Each of the Orks carried some deadly looking weapons, ranging from crude yet large axes, chipped but nasty blades to something that resembled a standard Imperial boltgun.

All were dressed in something that resembled trousers (but knowing Ork craftsmanship, none can't be too sure) made from a substance resembling leather. All bore tattoos on their arms bearing an Orkish insignia of a crude red axe and a jawbone. Several wore something that resembled armour ranging from metal plates loosely attached to each other capped off with equally flimsy looking shoulder pads. Other 'armour' looked like some scorched metal arranged in a circular fashion. All of the armour however bore the same crude insignia of a red axe and a jawbone.

The rest however went bare-chested preferring to show off their muscles – It was an example of typical Ork behaviour reminding everyone that they were greenskins and daring anyone to mess with them.

But someone did dare mess with them: As chance would have it, this mob of Orks had encountered another mob of Orks – another group wielding similar weapons that too resembled crude manufacture and brutal quality.

However this new group of Orks were from a separate tribe as they looked different, each having a deformed tuft of hair on their scalp accompanied with a batch of feathers and were dressed in ill-fitting, crudely stitched clothes.

That and the more obvious fact that these two Ork factions suddenly got stuck into each other without a second thought!

The jungle suddenly erupted into a riot of noise. All around thundered the sounds of boltguns being fired, war-cry's being bellowed in bestial roars, the crunch of jaws being broken with wicked blows, the sound of flesh being torn apart with boltgun shells, the crack as brutish axes cleaved through the air and the moans of the dying.

Such conflicts in amongst the Ork population of this planet weren't uncommon. The Orks never really abided to any type of formation, so they spent day after day roaming around the planet in a haphazard fashion. They would gladly fight with some of their own kind because they would seize any opportunity that involves a battle!

This, in turn, gave us the perfect opportunity in the terms of survival. We would find any conflict such as this and wait until the action dies down. When this happened, we would then descend onto the battlefield and pick up the remains of what we found. Say what you like about scavengers but in this case it was our only chance of survival.

Already, we had taken up positions, encircling this minor battle, waiting for the action to die down and the moment when we all move in.

I stood with my back to a tree, my two bolt pistols drawn and ready for action.

Several feet away to my left, Xerxes was crouched behind a large boulder. His hands were full with a lasgun, his weapon of choice, and his expression was apprehensive.

Next to him was a fellow outcast: A man named Laertes. He was a tall man of a thin structure and a bald head. He also had the most unfriendly of faces: Laertes had a real beak of a nose and a pair of eyes that burned with fire. He was dressed in, what looked like, the robes of an Imperial priest.

One look at Laertes and one could easily make the assumption that his mind is one of an unstable nature. And such an assumption isn't far at all from the truth: He is a religious fanatic. He is infused with an extraordinary determination to crush all infidels in the Emperor's name and won't let anything stand in his way.

Consequently, keeping him hidden in a situation like this is consistently difficult.

Why even now, in amongst the noise of the battle, I could hear Laertes and Xerxes argue.

"Why are we hiding in here?" the priest growled. I cast a quick glance at him. He's eyes were burning with righteous fervour and he bore his teeth.

He was also drumming his fingers along his flamer in tense fashion. I sighed. It seemed a stupid idea to give a fanatic like him a flamer but he was offered a variety of weapons and that was the only one he chose.

Of course, it is fitting that a priest should have a weapon that enables to eradicate all his foes in a purifying flame, but mostly I have my doubts as to whether someone of Laertes' mental stability should be wielding such a deadly weapon.

"Will you keep your head down?" Xerxes murmured harshly under his breath. "They're not supposed to know we are here!"

"Which gives us the element of surprise!" the priest said with an evil grin across his face and a zealous glint in his eye. "Come on, I want to engage them! I could take them all on! I hold the Emperor's fury in my hand and I want those blasted heretic greenskins to feel it!"

Xerxes didn't reply. Instead he grabbed Laertes and pulled the priest's face up close to his own.

"You listen to me" the former rogue trader growled through clenched teeth. "We've been over this a thousand times: We do things the correct way as we were instructed! We don't do things your way, understand?"

"Do you dare interfere with my work?!" the priest shot back. "I am on a mission from the Emperor! None shall dare stand in my way!"

"Oh for the love…." Xerxes groaned. It was anyone's guess how he managed to keep a cool head when arguing with Laertes whilst trying to not expose his concealed position to the Orks (I also had to give him credit: he seems to be showing a lot more balls than usual).

But there was no let up. Laertes must have sensed how his companion's last sentence would've ended for he then directed his flamer to Xerxes' face. Needless to say, the rogue trader got the shock of his life and his speech came to an abrupt halt.

"Yes, do continue" the priest grinned evilly. "I do believe you were saying something that involved taking our beloved Emperor's name in vain, hrmmm?"

Now this was a real test of Xerxes' exasperation. Amazingly he didn't seem to crack.

"I don't believe this" he said evenly. "Seriously, are you trying to get us all killed?"

"If it leads to absolution than that's perfectly fine by me" the priest replied nonchalantly.

I sighed and turned away from the bickering duo. My eye then fell on the battle that continued to rage.

Already there was no sign of it letting up. The Orks continued to blaze and rage with one another. More importantly, they didn't seem aware of the human eyes that were watching them. Yet.

My eyes then drifted upwards, above the battlefield.

There, lurking high within the branches of a nearby tree, unnoticed by the Orks, stood another one of the few humans on this planet. This consequently made him one of my allies.

His name was Deacon. He was a somewhat large man, dressed in dirty trousers, a grubby t-shirt and a sleeveless leather jacket. He had a pointed goatee, spiky black hair, dark eyes and a bandana wrapped around his head.

Deacon was a man of danger. He said little but what he did say was with a ruthless growl. He had the eyes of someone who had seen thousands die without a single trace of remorse and the presence that screamed menace. In short, Deacon had a look of someone who would slit a throat for a single measly cred.

He was also our resident weapons expert.

At the moment, he lurked from his high perch surveying the battlefield with a restrained expression across his face. In his arms cradled a huge heavy stubber. It was the largest weapon we had in our possession and Deacon was the only man for the job of using it.

At the moment, he looked ready to fire: he lurked in his tree under the cover of the leaves and the boughs, still going unnoticed by the Orks. Yet, I could still see him feeding a huge link of ammunition into his prized heavy stubber.

Deacon then carefully moved his weapon's barrel out from the under the cover and aimed it at the unsuspecting Orks.

He was ready to fire. All he needed now was the signal.

My eyes hardened. Knowing Deacon, once he was ready to fire, nothing could stop him. And should no enemies present themselves to be slaughtered, he could easily turn his gun on anyone – and that included those he considered his allies.

Deacon had only been with us for a short while but already showed signs of caring little towards the rest of us.

And in particular me.

Such is his contempt for me that he has made it quite clear that the day is coming when he will gun me down. But the least I can do is delay it.

My gaze then returned to Xerxes and Laertes whom were still arguing behind their rock.

Knowing what these two are like, that signal to attack had better come. Now if it sooner. Or else my allies will be tearing each other apart rather instead of the Orks.

My gaze then shifted to my right and two more figures hiding in the trees. Both stood behind separate trees to my right.

Hiding nearest to me was a man calling himself Bishop. He is a huge man, of incredibly muscular structure, who has a bionic arm in place of his right arm. He has a mass of long black hair tied in a ponytail, an unshaven chin and the eyes of a man who has seen many battles and many lives being taken before him.

He is dressed in nothing more than a pair of blue trousers and steel-capped boots. This leaves his chest bare for everyone to see: And it certainly is an impressive sight. Aside from an arrangement of muscles, it is criss-crossed with a variety of scars. One can only wonder how and where Bishop got all those from, but his experience on battle simple cannot be questioned.

Bishop used to serve as an Imperial Guardsman, hailing from the jungle planet of Catachan. And for that reason alone, he has my admiration: Anyone who was born and raised in a place (if the stories I've heard about carnivorous plants and massive man-eating lizards are true) surely is someone who can fight his way out of any situation. And Bishop certainly had the skills: He told me he used to be a lieutenant in the Catachan legions. This experience made him our de facto leader.

But it wasn't just experience: For in his eyes, this is just another battlefield. Sure the odds are greater and the tactics are different, but we're all fighting a foe in the name of survival.

Bishop was our de facto leader because we're all too frightened not to obey him.

Hiding behind the tree to Bishop's right, was a woman: She was of a slim body but at the same time she had a selection of well-developed muscles in her arms and legs. She also had a crop of red hair cut short to her lower face as well as a well-rounded face housing a pair of blue eyes and full-red lips. Yet in spite of very feminine features, she was, like the rest of us, dressed like she was ready for combat. However, unlike the rest of us, she was dressed for speed: She had nothing more than a tight-fighting pair of trousers and a crop-top. Yet she also had fixed to her belt a selection of grenades, and a machete among other knife weapons.

Her name was Jessie. And she was our best expert in the field of hand to hand combat. She could move with the quickest of movements and she use any type of sword of any size without any difficulty whatsoever. Jessie had an extensive knowledge of killing anyone with one's bare hands and could use any hand-to-hand weapon with the greatest of ease. She was also useful with ranged weapons as well and could use them just as freely. This effectiveness in battle had me wondering whether she had considered a career in the Officio Assassinorum in the Callidus temple.

And here in a combat situation, she was at her finest.

Because she's not at all interested in anything else.

One would think that being the only woman in amongst a group of men whom were stuck on an Ork World would place her in a dangerous position where she would be easily taken advantage of. Such an assumption would be correct but Jessie wasn't the type to be messed with: Her combat skills are just as good as the rest of us and we all respect her for it. Plus, she sleeps with her machete underneath her pillow.

And unfortunately for Xerxes, he found that out the hard way.

Furthermore, Jessie has an unwitting supporter in Laertes – Whenever she found herself in position of danger, she would give the priest a cue in mentioning the dangers of succumbing to the sin of lechery. Naturally, the priest would be more than happy to lecturing us about the evils that trouble the Emperor's universe.

Unsurprisingly neither I, Deacon or Xerxes shared such sentiments.

Nevertheless, it was useless trying to argue with someone of such furious zeal. Worse still, considering that he had been asked numerous times to give a lecture on this subject, it also meant that he had turned a suspicious eye on us all.

Needless to say, no one really has the gall to try to take advantage of Jessie.

Watching them both, I saw Bishop and Jessie ready to attack. All we needed was the signal from the former.

And then we will strike the Orks with such a lightening fast attack, they won't have time to grasp what was happening.

I looked back at the Orks. They were still fighting but by now they were beginning to thin out. Several bloodied corpses lay in amongst the undergrowth of the jungle whilst the battlers fought on.

It shouldn't be too long now.

My gaze then bounced back to Xerxes and Laertes.

And unfortunately for the rest of us, things weren't getting any better back there.

"Listen to me" Xerxes snapped. "In case you haven't noticed we are fighting a guerrilla war here! We can't take on this mob of Orks in a full-frontal assault!"

"I can!" Laertes argued. "I can take them all on and crush them because the Emperor is with me!!!"

Xerxes slapped his hand across his forehead in derision.

"For the last time" he growled. "Will you shut up?! You're going to get us killed!"

"Then be thankful that you have been given an opportunity to give you life up for the Emperor!"

I flicked my gaze back to Bishop. He had seen the bickering as well (Thankfully, the Orks were occupied with fighting each other to notice).

"What on earth is going on with those two?" Deacon muttered.

"Can someone please shut them up?" I heard Bishop add. "If that damn priest keeps rattling on the way he is right now, we're going to be found out!"

He then turned his irate gaze to me.

"Do me favour" Our Fearless Leader ordered. "Shut those two morons up before they give away our ambush!"

Nodding in consent, I turned my gaze back to the two idiots.

But things between them were just getting worse.

"Can you stay still and just listen to me for once?!" Xerxes was saying. "We are only here, in this position because we are waiting for those damned greenskins to wear their numbers down by fighting one another! Once that happens, we can move in and eradicate what few survivors remain! It's simple and already been planned long before, so settle down and wait!"

"I can't settle down!" Laertes retorted, getting to his feet. "I can't sit on my rear end whilst there are heretics waiting to be purged!"

And before anyone could stop him, he had vaulted his way over the rock and into the heat of the battle.

I quickly turned to Bishop. He had his hand shielding his gaze in complete and utter disbelief. Jessie also looked rather appalled.

I looked back across the battlefield towards Laertes.

Curiously enough, his sudden arrival had brought the battle to a complete standstill. At this point, only twenty four Orks remained. They all suddenly stopped fighting and stared at this newcomer. Obviously, they had been convinced that they were the only ones on this planet – thus, seeing a human turn up here was an unexpected shock.

Laertes also blinked. But it didn't take him long to pull the flamer up in front of him.

"Prepare to receive the Emperor's gift heretics!!!" he screamed.

The Orks bellowed an undecipherable reply and charged, their killer instinct driving them onward.

But Laertes didn't flinch at all. Instead he planted his feet firmly to the damp jungle floor and squeezed the flamer's trigger. Seconds later, a brilliant jet of flame burst from the nozzle. Laertes then proceeded to wave his weapon in massive arc, in a threatening manner.

Seeing the flame brought a sudden change into the Ork's charge. It would seem that they had never seen a weapon such as having spent so long on this planet dealing with combatants armed with crude boltguns and brutal axes. Thus the Orks gradually stopped – the flame keeping them at bay.

However the two in the lead weren't so lucky. Either they couldn't stop for being blinded by bloodlust or their reaction time was too slow. No matter what the reason, the two Orks charged straight into the flame and were promptly incinerated. In the blink of an eye, the two Orks were coated completely in yellow and orange blazes, thus sending their skin into charcoal and inspiring the most horrific of screams.

I looked back at Bishop.

"Well, looks like our cover's blown" he sighed.

He then looked up.

"CHARGE!!!" he roared.

And that was all we needed to hear.

With my grip tightening around my two bolt pistols, I took a deep breath and jumped out from behind my tree.

Less than a second later, one of the Ork had its left shoulder explode. A sudden piercing of the flesh triggered a huge fountain of blood. This was followed soon after by further piercing that traversed across it's face, leaving more trails of blood in their wake. A second Ork standing beside the first, suffered a similar fate when his chest was penetrated with multiple bolts that slammed into him.

My ears were ringing with the distinctive click and boom of bolt pistol fire. My hands were feeling the familiar sensation of burning metal.

One Ork still standing roared some indistinguishable profanity (not that I'm that immersed in the greenskin culture but what else could he be yelling out?) and started firing some shells from his boltgun into my general vicinity.

So I took that as my cue to get out of there.

I ducked back behind my tree and ejected both my ammo clips from my pistols. Already I could feel the perspiration of combat across my forehead and the muscles in my hand twitch from holding my two pistols with undivided determination. I could sense my teeth grit and my firing fingers going uneasy.

All of these were the signs of being in the real heat of combat

You've got to love it.

I reached into my coat and pulled out two more fresh ammo clips. As I slammed these both into each of my pistols, I cast my gaze across the battlefield.

Bishop strode slowly through the clearing, his right arm occupied with operating his lasgun – this ploughed its way through the Orks, administrating death with relentless abandon.

One Ork charged for Bishop screaming a bestial war cry and waving a massive axe above it's head. However, our leader didn't seem too perturbed. The Ork charged at a relentless pace and, with an almighty roar, brought the axe down on Bishop's head.

At was at that moment that Bishop's free arm, his bionic arm, shot upwards and grabbed the axe's hilt as it came down. This intercepted the descent path of the Ork's weapon and sent shock waves reverberating up and down the weapon. The greenskin was astonished (or at least the Ork equivalent of such a feeling) to say the least.

Suddenly, Bishop's artificial hand squeezed the hilt with all its might. Suddenly, with an enormous crack, the weapon was shattered in half.

The Ork blinked, as the newly-freed axehead tumbled from it's hilt and harmlessly over to one side. But if that moment had caught the Ork by surprise, than what happened next was equally unexpected. Using his bionic arm, Bishop dealt the most vicious of punches into the greenskin's face. But this was no ordinary blow – Bishop was driving the entire power of his artificial arm into it. Consequently, the punch managed to smash it's way past the Ork's skin and into it's skull. A sickening crack resounded across the battlefield, as the shattered skull managed to penetrate it's way into the Ork's brain.

The Ork fell without a sound, thus allowing Bishop to continue on his way

And Bishop did all this without flinching once. Nor did he cease with the firing of his lasgun. Indeed, it was moments like this that left me in awe of our leader and his prowess in combat.

Elsewhere however….

Still, in battle he was a machine!

Well, part of him was at least.

Suddenly, a huge crack rocked the battlefield. This promptly sent the Orks into further confusion as they roared. Several even looked upwards, in an attempt to find out what the noise was.

The answer came quickly afterwards: A huge mass of smoke blossomed out from underneath the greenskins' feet.

I smiled. This was one of Xerxes' smoke bombs. He was able to pull one together without much difficulty and we used them in ambushes such as these. They worked a treat in that they caught the Orks off guard and gave us the necessary cover to move in and dispatch them all with ease.

Casting my gaze upwards, I saw Deacon lurking in his tree, dealing death with his heavy stubber. He looked down at the battlefield with an expression that radiated with sadistic pleasure. His heavy stubber roared, firing enough bullets to carpet the floor that made up the battlefield. And this impressive firepower caught several Orks whom were stupid enough to stand in the way, this making them explode into a mess of blood and bone.

I shook my head. It was times like these that made me concerned on how much pleasure Deacon got out of his job. And whether or not he was concerned on who he caught in the blaze from his heavy stubber – including we, his allies.

But no matter, this is a battlefield.

And in such an environment, it is every man for himself.


	2. Beta

**Title:** Angelus Erroneous: Fabricati Diem

**Author**: Spike

**Chapter:** Two

Suddenly, my thoughts were shattered by a distinctive, high-pitched battle cry.

It was the shriek that always came from Jessie's mouth whenever she charged into combat.

I shrugged. Okay, every man and woman for themselves then.

Watching her in battle always never ceased to amaze me. She always charged in at an incredible speed and, with a dazzling array of unequalled movement she could charge into an opponent and kill him in the blink of an eye.

And this case was no exception: Right now, Jessie faced a massive greenskin that glared down at her as she charged. The Orc blinked in a diminutive fashion: Obviously he had never expected to see a human charge up to him in a bold fashion, let alone a 'wimmin' of those stinking 'Oomans'. But, in the end, this was combat and there was no way any Ork was going to give quarter to a foe.

If that bellow was anything to go by.

But Jessie didn't seem too perturbed. Being situated on an Ork world had given her plenty of time and space to hone her combat skills. And being able to outpace and outwit the most simple and brutish opponents, she was able to get an edge over her opponents with speed and fluidity of movement

Here, she managed to sense where the Ork was going to deliver the blow with his enormous weapon: It was going to slice the air above her with the intention of taking off her head. But Jessie was too smart for such a move: She quickly ducked underneath the blade as the greenskin dealt it's blow. She then followed this up by leaping up and ramming her foot into the Ork's chest.

What happened next was pretty bizarre.

She then rammed her other foot into the Ork and quickly _ran_ up his chest and his face! Then, with one incredible back-flip, she came crashing down, in a seated position onto the Ork's shoulders, with its head in-between her legs.

The Ork couldn't believe what had happened – so much so, it started yelling rather loudly in defiance. It started waving its weapon around in massive arcs trying to remove the unwelcome attachment to his head. He also attempted to throw her off by heaving his shoulders around.

But Jessie was having none of that. Instead, she calmly pulled a dagger out from her boot and, without any hesitation whatsoever, drove it deep into the Orks skull.

The greenskin bellowed a bellow that shook the jungle to it's foundations. He bellowed both in pain and in his frustration of being unable to kill such a troublesome foe. Finally, he reached up and tried to pull Jessie off his head.

But Jessie was always one step ahead: She quickly pulled her legs up and placed her feet onto the Ork's shoulders. Then, with an incredible sense of movement, she did another flip backwards.

She landed gracefully onto the green jungle floor – seconds before the greenskin cam crashing down afterwards.

Jessie grinned with sadistic pleasure and reached behind her back – to pull out a chainsword. Then she darted off, in search of new opponents.

I blinked. That woman's combat skills never cease to amaze me.

Sure it may sound rather extraordinary, but pulling off such a move was no difficult task for Jessie.

It was at this point in time that my eyes hardened. There was something rather unsettling about the way she fought the greenskins. Sure, Jessie had been fighting Orks for a while but it her mental state outside the battlefield was a completely different story.

Like me, Jessie has been up against Orks for so long that we both have a pleasure in killing all those damned greenskins. But unlike me, Jessie doesn't kill Orks because she can't stand the bastards – No, instead she lives for the thrill of the hunt.

That being said, out of all of us, Jessie has developed the greatest level of adaptation to this planet. It makes me wonder what would happen to her should she ever leave this planet.

But then again, should the opportunity arise, there's no way she will take it.

Well at least that's what I think anyway.

Oh well, time to get back to the action.

I then darted out from behind the tree and straight back into the combat zone.

Another Ork caught sight of my recent re-appearance and aimed his boltgun. But he wasn't quick enough: I immediately opened fire, grinning as the warm, familiar scent of bolt pistol smoke crawled into my nostrils. Ah, it doesn't get any better than this…

As for the Ork, well, he suddenly found his chest being penetrated by several holes. This was followed by another that thundered its way right through his cranium. He then found himself tumbling to the ground but by that stage, his brain couldn't tell him he was dead.

A trio of Orks then decided to charge for me – but when they made as much noise as a squad of Imperial Guard Ogryns and moved with the same amount of grace as a Leman Russ tank, I was hardly perturbed. I just stood my ground and kept firing at them, aiming for their legs. Within seconds, they all tumbled and fell onto the floor of the jungle.

Sensing my two pistols, growing hot, I ceased firing.

Not that there was anything left in range to shoot at anyway: The Orks I had brought down, they groaned in a manner that was both bestial and full of pain. Some started crawling on their bellies, using their elbows to support themselves. Others glared back at me and snarled in defiance. One even reached for his boltgun.

But I wasn't bothered even in the slightest. With my two pistols smoking at the barrels, I slowly made my way over to the downed Orks.

The greenskins burned many a hateful gaze as I approached, but I was hardly worried.

They weren't going anywhere. And it wasn't like they were going to do anything that would bother me.

Provided that Ork with the boltgun had a lousy aim…..

I stopped my pace mere inches in front of the nearest Ork. His red eyes burned at me with ferociousness.

I paused momentarily – but it didn't take long before my extreme contempt for the Orks took control. Immediately, my steel-capped boot came crashing into his face. It smashed his nose apart and managed to penetrate its way right into his brain.

The other Orks immediately started roaring in an appalled fashion (or at least that's what it sounded like). Obviously they didn't seem to like the idea of having one of their number kicked in the face when he was downed.

"The same to you, you bastards!" I shouted back, feeling my fingers engaging within the now quite-familiar kick of the bolt-pistol trigger.

Sweeping my two pistols in two separate arcs, I rained death in both directions upon the downed Orks. I watched in glee as the bolt shells tore apart heads, penetrated muscles and triggered bursts of green blood that sprayed everywhere.

Yes, this is how you catch your enemy: when he's helpless.

Some may call it sick but I call it pure satisfaction.

However, in my pleasure, I forgot all about the Ork I had seen seconds earlier: the one who was still clutching his boltgun.

Well, this Ork wanted me to know that he was still around and made his presence known.

With a bolt shell to leg.

I screamed with pain as the white-hot shell penetrated its way into my flesh. The bolt sent me tumbling backwards, down onto the jungle floor.

Immediately, my gaze picked up the intruder. He leered at me in triumphant fashion. Oddly enough, even though he had just brought me down, he didn't fire any more shots. A likely guess was that he wanted to savour the victory of knocking me off me feet.

But this gave me the opportunity I needed.

Although every muscle in my leg was screaming in pain, I grit my teeth and aimed the bolt pistol in my right hand at the stinking greenskin.

"No Ork is going to get the better of me!" I snarled under my breath.

And with one click of the trigger, I put the Ork out of my misery.

He fell onto his face without a sound.

I blinked through the smoke that emitted from the barrel of my bolt pistol. All around were the corpses of all the Orks I had killed. All around was nothing in the way of movement nor was there any sound. Aside from the distant screams of the dying and the gunfire that rang out across the jungle, no more Orkish sounds could be heard.

Nothing could challenge me.

And with an injured leg, it was probably just as well.

I sighed and looked up at the sky.

All around, the sounds of my companions fighting the Orks raged on.

Groaning with the pain that was still present in my leg, I slowly sat up. Well at least tried to – such a task wouldn't have been difficult had it not been for the freshly-created wound.

Still I managed to hoist my torso up off the ground to examine the wound.

It wasn't a pretty sight: The bolt shell had not only penetrated my flesh but it also tore a chunk out from the rest the leg, thus leaving the insides of the leg exposed to the rest of the world.

My brow furrowed. Well, this wasn't good…..

Just then, I heard the sounds of footsteps approaching.

I looked up, my hands readily clutching my bolt pistols.

But there was no need for such concern. There, emerging from the smoke of battle was Xerxes, a smoking lasgun in hand.

He noticed me sitting in front of the mass of Ork corpses and smiled.

"Well now" he said, casting an eye at my kills. "You've certainly been busy"

"You could say that" I replied. "How about you?"

"Oh I've killed a few" the former rogue trader replied.

He then noticed the wound in my leg. This promptly sent his smile off his face.

"Oh my" he said. "That looks nasty"

"You don't say…."

"Did one of those Orks do that?"

"Yeah" I replied. "But I sent that bastard to his grave"

"I bet he learned his lesson" Xerxes grinned sardonically. "You just couldn't help yourself, eh?"

"Listen" I said. "Are you going to crap on like that when I'm in dire need of medical attention?!"

"All right, all right!" he sighed.

Geez, he may have grown some balls since we first met but it still doesn't mean he's actually of any help.

Slinging his lasgun over his shoulder, he knelt down beside me. Picking up my arm by the wrist, Xerxes then slung it over his shoulder and then proceeded to lift me to my feet.

"Can you walk?" he asked.

"Not too well" I replied. "But I'll give it a shot."

Gradually, my feet sensed earth. Leaning on Xerxes for support, my good foot slowly picked up the distinctive rhythm of travelling up and down.

Now that the art of walking had been properly re-established, both myself and Xerxes made our way across the battlefield, in search of survivors.

By now, the battlefield had ground to a standstill. Gone were the clatter of boltgun fire and gone were the unmistakable roars of bestial brutality from the greenskins. Instead, there was utter silence.

Furthermore, the battlefield was engulfed in a massive cloud of smoke. It managed to conceal everything in a haze of grey – the type of which that was spawned from boltgun fire and the heat of battle. The corpses of the Orks were still in decent visible range and so were some of the numerous ferns that bordered the clearing. All else was shielded by the smoke.

As myself and the former Rogue Trader captain picked our way through the many corpses across the clearing, two shapes came into view.

It was Bishop and Jessie.

The former fixed us with a grim expression. Ork was splattered across his bare chest, his chainsword was riddled with pieces of green flesh and his fingers were stained red from firing his gun constantly.

Still, his face bore something of sweet relief.

Jessie also looked relieved but, unlike Bishop, she didn't bother applying the effort of concealing it. She grinned the widest of grins and her eyes still blazed with the adrenalin she regularly felt when she was slaughtering the Orks.

Bishop looked up to see me leaning on Xerxes.

"Well, it's good to see you two are still alive" he said.

"Same to you" Xerxes grinned.

_Drop dead_ I thought

"Been having fun?"

"Well, I kinda got my foot blown off…" I replied sardonically.

"Really?" Bishop said with a small smile. "I never thought those greenskins will ever manage to strike you with a wound. You must be losing your touch, Narc"

"Thanks for the sympathy" I replied sarcastically.

"Sympathy?!" Jessie exclaimed. "There is no sympathy for someone who lets himself get shot up by those greenskins! If one of them wounded you Narc, then chances are you weren't moving quickly enough!!"

Bishop and myself exchanged bewildered glances. Yes, Jessie was at her finest on the battlefield but sure inspires some peculiar behaviour.

Xerxes, however, cleared his throat.

"So Jessie" he said. "Did you kill a lot of Orks today?"

"Absolutely!" she grinned. "But when compared to previous fights, I must admit they were a lot more boring."

Bishop, Xerxes and I all blinked.

"Dammit" she went on. "We should be fighting bigger and tougher Orks! We shouldn't be fighting small groups of them under cover, we gotta hunt down a location where they gather in huge numbers and slaughter them all!"

Indeed, it was times like these that had me worried about Jessie. For there is always the worrying thought that her love for fighting Orks is having on her mind: It makes me wonder how long it will take before her love of combat becomes a necessity.

And when that happens, what happens when she runs out of Orks to fight? Will she turn on us…..?

Just then, all four of us heard the noise of running feet. This was soon accompanied by the burst of flame that could have only come form a flamer and the distinctive scream that could only have come from Laertes' lungs.

The four of us sighed. Obviously, the priest hadn't noticed yet that all the Orks were already dead.

Bishop sighed. "Jessie?"

"Yes?'

"Do the honours will you?"

"Sure thing"

And with that, she disappeared into the smoke, heading for the noise.

It would seem that all the time spent travelling with us has done little to quell the priest's fanatical nature. If anything, hanging around group of rough and ready renegades like us may have made things worse.

You'd think that trying to talk sense into Laertes has been done before. We have all tried. We have all attempted to knock some sense into him using words, pleas, threats, knives and even guns. But to no avail. He just keeps going his way, convinced that he's doing the Emperor's bidding. Furthermore, Laertes doesn't listen to a single damn word we say.

Still he does get the job done.

And in this game of constant survival that's all we need.

"Seems I'm going to have a few words with our goodly priest here" he muttered.

"Do you honestly think he'll listen to you?" I inquired. "He's a fanatic! He won't fear a single damn thing when he's convinced the Emperor is walking with him!"

"He will listen to me" Bishop growled. "When I'm in command, I don't tolerate any insubordination.

"And I don't like any bastard taking a well-planned ambush into his own hands"

Xerxes' facial expression suddenly grew guilty.

"I tried to stop him!" he protested. "I tired to hold him back! I tired to talk him out of it!"

"Well then" Bishop replied grimly "Maybe you should try harder"

"Look boss" I said. "We gotta do something about Laertes. He isn't as much as a warrior as a liability! If he keeps doing things his way then he's going to get us all killed!"

"Why?" Bishop shot back "He's killed more Orks than you have!"

I blinked.

"So what's the use of punishing at him for insubordination?" Our Fearless Leader added "Come on! Tell me, seeing you're so keen on telling me how to do my job!?"

I stiffened. I wasn't liking the direction this conversation was taking

"Oh I'm sorry, did I interrupt something?" a voice said.

All of us looked up to see Deacon approach. He strode out of the smoke with his enormous heavy stubber slung over his shoulders. His arms were stained with sweat and spots of black that could only have come from his consistent firing. His facial expression was grim – this wasn't unusual because he was the most cheerless out of all of us.

Except when he was dishing out threats from behind a knife.

"Laertes knows that we all function as a group and he needs Bishop's leadership purely for survival" he went on. "Without it, the stupid fool would be useless. And would most likely be long dead by now"

"Exactly" Bishop said

Damn it, once again, Deacon has come running to Bishop's rescue, just like the scum-sucking lap-dog he is.

"Guerrilla warfare isn't the place for a fanatic!" I yelled in exasperation. "What type of bloodthirsty, absolution-seeking fanatic understands the necessity of stealth in an increasingly hostile environment?!"

"If he does his job of killing Orks, then that's all perfectly fine by me!" Bishop shot back.

By now the screaming and the flames from the Flamer had all come to an abrupt halt.

We all exchanged glances. Jessie had done her job.

Bishop then fixed me with a mean glare.

"Don't tell me how to my job _private_" he growled softly.

I suddenly felt very uneasy.

"True he messed up my plan but at least he will both kill the Orks and do things my way"

I was half expecting him to draw out a pistol and gun me down there and then.

And he would've had we not been interrupted.

Jessie suddenly emerged from the smoke, dragging the now out-cold Laertes behind her.

Bishop's gaze then hardened and he turned away from me.

"Now that we're all here" he growled "We should be moving. No doubt the smoke and the noise from this little skirmish would've attracted some attention. So we better get out of here before more Orks come"

"What?!" Jessie spluttered 'We're running?!"

"Of course" Bishop snapped. "We don't want to draw to much attention to us! No doubt some mob of Greenskins has already picked up this battle and is already on their way to investigate

"And we don't want them finding out about us right?"

"Bah!" Jessie retorted. "Let them come! I can take them all on! I would rather fight them all rather than hide from the prospect of combat!"

If Jessie thought that would come across as a convincing argument, she was sadly mistaken. And unfortunately for her, Bishop was the last person she would want to argue with.

"Need I remind you that we are fighting a guerrilla war?!" he growled in-between gritted teeth. "We must not leave any trace of our presence whatsoever. We must kill any Orks we come across in the name of survival. We must attack them in small groups under cover as going after a swarm of them in the open is plain suicide! And we must kill any of those green bastards that see us so we can keep our secret presence planet non-existent!"

"True" Jessie argued. "But the more Orks that come here, the more I can kill! They would have no chance against my and my skills!

"Hell, bring the whole planet here!" she grinned. "I could take them all on! And then we can go around and do as we please without having to resort to constantly hiding!!!"

Both Xerxes and I exchanged bewildered glances. This was perhaps the extent of the thrill Jessie has in the heat of combat. Needless to say, it was rather unsettling.

I cast a gaze over at Deacon. He seemed hardly bothered by the conflicts between our comrades – Instead, he had lit up a cigar and was calmly puffing away.

Meanwhile, Bishop fixed a hard gaze at Jessie – sure she had delivered a heartfelt argument but all it did was fall on deaf ears.

"Let's get out of here" he growled.

Jessie blinked.

"But…" she began to protest.

Bishop didn't reply, Instead he fixed her with gaze that would make the blood of a Chaos Space Marine Champion of Khorne turn to water. Wisely, Jessie chose to keep her mouth shut.

And with that, Bishop turned around and hoisted the still unconscious Laertes over his shoulder. He then disappeared into the trees. Deacon shrugged and followed, his heavy stubber slung over his back.

I followed, still supporting Xerxes on my shoulder.

"Can you manage it?"

"I've been through worse" he grinned. "I've had my cargo raided several times before, my crew mutiny, and being held at gunpoint by dissatisfied customers and difficult negotiators. It all comes with the job of being a Rogue Trader!"

"Are you still persisting with that myth?" I snapped.

As we all followed Bishop through the jungle, I cast my gaze over my shoulder. Jessie was still standing in the middle of the clearing, in amidst the carnage and the smoke. She looked around before finally deciding to follow us.


	3. Gamma

**Title:** Angelus Erroneous: Fabricati Diem

**Author**: Spike

**Chapter:** Three

With my bones aching from being risen from sleep, I strode out across the plateau and looked at the sky.

I blinked and then returned my gaze across the campsite.

Being situated on this planet of hostile forces, we have to resort to guerrilla warfare in the name of survival. We have to remain one step ahead of the enemy and we must not let them achieve an awareness of our presence on this planet. That being said, we never have a permanent base. Instead, we continually find ourselves relying on a temporal camp: One that is located within a discreet location that the Orks would never detect. After countless weeks of travelling, has it been weeks? Time has been drifting past ever since I've arrived here, we have been moving from one location to another, without attracting too much attention.

Because of the mobile nature of our camp, it certainly wasn't an impressive site: All it consisted of were several ramshackle tents made from the most limited of resources. Most of it was sheets of metal that we pillaged from my escape capsule, arranged in a way that it covered us from the worst that the weather of this planet could throw at us. It wasn't very effective but at least it got the job done.

Previously our sleeping arrangement relied on resting in amongst the branches of trees or making ourselves not to look as conspicuous as possible. It was only recently that we tried to make some kind of shelter. It did work, to some degree, but it also meant that we had to move as early in the day as possible and be extra careful that we didn't leave any trace of our presence behind.

In other cases, our sleeping quarters were made from materials we had acquired from one of our many raids upon the Orks. Consequently, we found ourselves utilising a far cruder make of metal and some pieces of equally shambolic cloth. This cloth bore signs of patches that the Orks had stitched together in a pathetic attempt at repairs. The metal wasn't much better: It was hardly the strongest metal in the universe and it riddled with dents. But seeing as we were relying on this stuff to survive, we weren't in any position to complain. In this game of survival, we had to take the good times with the bad times.

Even if the bad times came far too regularly.

I looked down at my injured foot. Staring back at me was a mess of blood, metal and bandages.

I had no idea what Laertes did to my foot (and from the looks of it, it will be best for me not to think about it) but it seemed to do the trick: The pain had stopped and I was able to use it (to some degree).

Just then I grew aware of the presence of another.

I flicked my head around to see, standing some feet away, Laertes making his way across the rocks that encircled our campsite. He didn't seem aware of my presence – instead, he was looking straight ahead – to the sunrise.

My gaze hardened at the sight of the priest. Obviously, he's got something on his mind. But considering the time we have spent in the priest's company, neither myself, nor my fellow outcasts have ever grasped a full idea of what Laertes thinks.

But considering how his mind works, I guess finding out such information would be near impossible.

Laertes, along with Jessie and Deacon, came to this miserable rock through travelling on a piece of wreckage that used to part of a Penal Legion transport ship. He doesn't talk much about his past but in the process of looting the wreck I managed to locate his data slat. This device contained all his records before and during his time on the prison ship.

It also told me everything I needed to know about him. :

Turns out, Laertes actually used to be a priest. Not some clown trying to pretend to be one to escape some certain death or some equally miserable fate (as one would expect in the company of outcasts such as this) but a genuine, bona-fide priest. However this career was cut short when he started preaching an alteration of the Imperial Creed. It wasn't much of an alteration, it was just him making some minor changes to suit the world in which he lived in (or so he told us).

Anyway, Laertes was arrested on the charge of heresy. Naturally, he seemed quite baffled at such a charge and was quite vocal in protesting his innocence. But to what good? No amount of well-chosen words could stop him being loaded into a prison ship with a whole bunch of other scum.

And so, he found himself boarded onto the prison ship. However in that time this wasn't a pleasant time for the former priest. The prison records indicated that the time in both space and isolation, triggered a horrific decline in the priest's behaviour. According to the data records, Laertes was, at first, frightened, having obviously never been in such decrepit conditions before. Obviously being a priest hadn't prepared him for the usual horrors of a prison ship – rotten food, putrid living quarters, brutal guards and a motley crew of the worst offenders from every corner of the Imperium. Consequentially, Laertes grew increasingly sickened with the terrible images that confronted him every waking hour. Gradually however, he then grew into a state of disbelief: He was baffled as to why he had been placed into such a miserable hell-hole when all he had given so much in the name of the Emperor. Now, he was gradually become convinced that the Emperor had turned his back on him – and when Laertes was loyal in his devotion (well, in his own eyes at least), this wasn't a very easy concept to grasp. As such, he would spend many hours pacing in his cell jabbering on to himself and, occasionally, falling to his knees demanding a sign from the God-Emperor so his devotion hasn't gone unnoticed.

However, when such a sign didn't come, Laertes went under a final change in behaviour: He arrived at the realisation that the Emperor had been disappointed with his work as a priest. Thus, Laertes became determined to seek absolution in the eyes of the Emperor. However such a venture also meant that something precious to Laertes had to be abandoned:

His sanity.

Thus, as the days of incarceration wore on, Laertes grew obsessed with finding redemption in the Emperor's gaze that his state of mind careered into that of a zealot. Now he had a goal he was also infused with the will of a fanatic to see it through.

This, as the records told me, made life in the prison rather problematic for both the guards and the other prisoners. Whenever he was in his cell, he would spend nearly of all the time pacing up and down, screaming praises to the Emperor and throwing himself to his knees in a redemptive manner. Outside of his cell, he tried to escape the prison compound on several occasions, claiming that the Emperor needed him to hunt down all those heretics who had forsaken His name. Yet, even as he escaped, he always managed to be located again – yet no amount of failed escape attempts did a single thing to cease his steely resolve.

Although the guards would almost have been used to criminals being overcome with a sense of fanaticism to the Emperor, they did somewhat annoyed with Laertes as he was a repeat offender. His many escape attempts were the tip of a very large iceberg: Some of his crimes with the Penal Legion included striking many people for taking the Emperor's name in vain, starting fights with people who dared mention the names of the four chaos gods, trying to kill anyone who dare interfere with his good work, striking various commanding officers (he often claimed they were trying to stop him with his Emperor-sanctioned mission), inciting several revolts in amongst the ranks. There were even reports of several incidents involving some fellow Legionaries being nailed to giant crosses of crude construction and being left to die (of course, Laertes denied this, saying only that those unfortunates got what was coming to them).

With such an extensive list of offences, no one in the Penal Legion had the gall to bother him. Once it became clear on exactly what he was like, everyone chose to avoid Laertes. Frequently, he tried to give speeches to his fellow legionnaires, demanding they join him in his 'holy crusade' – but he didn't always succeed. And even from the times that he did find success, it was usually from disgruntlement in amongst the ranks. Naturally, however these 'crusades' never did get far and Laertes would eventually be caught and severely punished. But these punishments did nothing more than strengthen his will to keep on with this crusade. And in the terms of standing steadfast against adversity, Laertes was someone who would give Confessor Dolan a run for his money.

If anything, Laertes has committed the most offences out of all of us.

And somehow he, along with Jessie and Deacon, managed to survive the destruction of the Penal Legion transport ship that crashed here on this rock. Of course, Laertes would have no hesitation in declaring such an incident a sign from the Emperor that he was looking over his disciple.

Unfortunately for the rest of us, being situated on an Ork-infested beyond the fringes of Imperial space has done nothing to change Laertes' behaviour. He still won't tolerate anyone taking the Emperor's name in vain and he is quite vocal in protesting our amount of cursing and the rough language we use. Indeed, there have been several occasions already where he has clashed with everyone else. However, it didn't take us long to realise just how easily we could manipulate Laertes' single-minded devotion: Once we convinced him that this was an Ork world and the Orks in question had all turned their back on the enlightened path, the priest had no hesitation in declaring that he must purge all the heretics in the Emperors name.

Naturally, this makes him terribly effective in combat but, at the same time, something of a problem considering he frequently becomes blinded with his fanaticism. Consequently, in the heat of combat, he goes out on his own, pursuing the Orks with righteous zeal and he needs us to him bring back to his senses.

In that sense, Laertes isn't really the type of person who would be well situated to a guerrilla war. Indeed, if he had his way, he would've killed all the Orks in this world by now.

But then again, that thought isn't as bad as it sounds……

I blinked, breaking from my reverie. I smiled and approached the spot to where the priest stood.

He then flicked his head around, sensing my approach and smiled.

"Good morning to you Narc" he greeted.

"Yeah, hi" I grunted in reply, as I sat down beside him.

Laertes raised an eyebrow at my limp reply.

I half-expected him to react to the somewhat uncouth nature of my reply by careering off into one of his dreaded lectures but no such thing came.

Thankfully

"What are you doing up so early?" I inquired.

"I just want to see this wondrous sight before me" he grinned, raising his hand before the sunrise.

I raised my hand to my head. Oh no, here we go….

"Isn't it wonderful?" the priest continued. "And why shouldn't it be? It's the Emperor's own creation after all!"

I raised an eyebrow as he continued:

"Ah, it's time like these that make me feel glad to be alive! Alive in the Emperor's universe and ready to butcher all of the heretics that dare challenge his name!"

I grimaced at this line. You've got to be kidding me…

But unfortunately for me, Laertes caught my expression. And immediately his smile vanished.

"What's your problem?" he said sternly.

My blood went cold. It didn't take a Tech-Priest of Mars to detect that sense of menace that was beginning to radiate in this situation.

"Can't you take the time to appreciate the things that are going around you?" Laertes said. "It is a new day! We have been presented with another opportunity to prove ourselves in the eyes of the emperor!

As the priest continued rattling on, I got to my feet.

"We have another day to fill of slaughtering heretics in his name! We…"

"Oh, cut the crap" I snapped at him.

Laertes blinked at this sudden interruption but it didn't take long for him to get angry.

"How dare you speak to me like that!" he snarled. "You have violated one of the sacred laws of the Imperial Creed! And for that I'll…."

"You'll do what?" I retorted. "Punish me?"

This sent Laertes really right off: With a look of absolute fury, he grabbed my by the front of my shirt.

"You bet I will" he snarled.

This situation was one of utter suicide: Just who, in their right mind, would dare challenge someone who has such a fanatic zeal? But I'm not hardly worried: I'm not scared of Laertes. And I would rather waste some ammo on the Orks (who more than deserve it) than one of the humans I have to travel with.

"And just how do you intend to do that?" I challenged. "Are you going to call upon your almighty God-Emperor to smite me down from the heavens?"

Laertes blinked.

"You know something?" he said "That doesn't sound like a bad idea"

"Yeah, I'm sure he will hear you out here"

"What?!"

"Oh face facts will you?!" I roared at him.

Laertes was so surprised by this sudden outburst that he let go of my shirt.

"How can you remain faithful to your God-Emperor in a situation such as this?!" I snarled. "We are stranded on this planet, far beyond the borderlines of the Imperium full of hostile forces without anyone knowing where we are or anyone caring!

"And are we here by our own will? Of course not! We are here because we escaped certain death at the hands of the Imperium which we fight so hard for! We can leave any time we want to but does anyone want to? No way – we take one foot off this planet and we'll be located by Imperial forces and executed.

"What a way to go for such a 'loyal servant of the God-Emperor'" I said, my voice radiating with sarcasm.

Laertes shook with rage.

"The Emperor looks after all his children!" he thundered "No matter wherever they are in this universe! Nor what they have done previously!!"

"Well then" I argued. "If the God-Emperor is so great than exactly what was he thinking when he had me on a shambolic trial just so some Imperial general can save his career?! And what was he thinking when he had you deported to prison, eh?"

"That was a test of faith!" Laertes countered. "He has brought us here to purge the Orkish heretics in his name! And once he does that, he will welcome us into his light!!"

"Oh this is absurd" I snarled. And with that, I turned and strode away.

"At least I've retained my faith!!" Laertes shouted after me.

"But at what cost?" I muttered.

Suddenly, my stride was interrupted.

It came in the form of the ground in front of me exploding with a series of bullets.


	4. Delta

**Title:** Angelus Erroneous: Fabricati Diem

**Author**: Spike

**Chapter:** Four

My eyes widened. What the hell?!

I jumped off my feet and immediately fell to the ground, behind one of the rocks that encircled the campsite. My combat instincts demanded that I draw one of my pistols and so I heeded.

I drew one of my bolt pistols and immediately peeked out from behind the rock.

And there, emerging with the dawning rays of sunlight, came Deacon. He marched with a cigar in mouth and his stubber gripped tightly in his hands. The end of the stubber was smoking and Deacon marched with a stride that betrayed his complete lack of remorse.

Not to mention a twisted grin.

I got to my feet and blinked at Deacon as he strode over. Somehow, I began to feel an uneasy sense of impending doom as our weapons expert advanced.

The only one's out here….

I looked over my shoulder at Laertes: The priest had noted the arrival of Deacon and as such, a look of unease began to appear on his face. Thus, he lost interest in trying to preach to me about the Emperor's loyalty his servants and, instead, returned his gaze to the sunrise.

You had to hand to Deacon: He conveys a presence that makes the fanatical sit up and take notice.

"I heard some shouting" he said nonchalantly "Thought there might be some Orks around."

I opened my mouth to speak but before I could say anything, Deacon cut me off:

"I need some volunteers for mission" he growled. "Bishop sent me on Dawn-watch"

Laertes and I exchanged glances.

Dawn-watch was something Bishop had set up ever since we had all decided to travel with one another. Each morning at dawn, before we took down the camp site and moved on, someone had to do a quick scan of the surrounding area and to identify any traces of the Orks. Should any be found, whether it be one or a whole group of them, it was up to the participant to take them all down. It was important that any Orks were killed because we needed to remained concealed and not let the green-skins become aware of our presence. Henceforth, Dawn-watch was the only way of preventing any sudden attacks and another one of our methods of keeping one step ahead of the orcs. Should a whole group of Orcs be encountered, chances are, the whole group will need to be awakened to deal with them. And once we salvaged what we can use form the bodies of the Orcs we would simply leave them there – Being on a planet housing a countless number of Ork tribes that are engaged with a constant war with each other, it was easy to assume that should the bodies be discovered they would be considered as the work of another Ork tribe. Thus, the Orks never really become aware that they are sharing this planet with a sextet of desperate humans

On certain occasions, more than one person would be called in to do this daily task.

And in this case, there were three.

However it was not a case of willingness. Instead, there was enough tension between the three of us that it was likely that we would rather kill each other than the Orcs.

The three of us walked down the slope towards the jungle that lay at the bottom. The plan was to do a quick circle of the plateau that we had encamped upon and to locate any potential threats to our position.

I cast an eye to Laertes and Deacon.

The priest had his flamer in hand. He certainly looked ready for action – but at the same time he looked ready for what he would normally call "redeeming all the un-pure heretics in the Emperor's name". That's what I found unsettling about him: just how much dominance does his fanaticism have over him? What would happen should we not find any Orcs – will he instead find satisfaction in roasting the rest of us with that flamer?

Deacon, meanwhile didn't look any more comforting. He had his heavy stubber slung over his shoulder. A sick smile was also forming across his face, as if in anticipation of the mayhem to come. His eyes were leering towards the jungle's edge, a murderous glint in them. It seemed obvious he too was ready to surrender to a horrendous blood lust.

Oh this was just great – here I am trapped with two psychos who may kill me should they not find any Orcs!

In a situation like this the only thing that would save me would be a prayer to the Emperor that we do find some Orcs.

But I personally would rather that the Emperor have Laertes kill Deacon……….

Just then, I noticed Deacon's eyes turn to my direction. He must have sensed my tension for his grin grew wider.

"You're certainly up at an early hour Narc" he said. "Most unusual I have to admit"

Immediately, the alarm bells started ringing off inside my head. Deacon wasn't known for being the talkative type. When he started using complete sentences such as these it probably was a sign that homicidal intent wasn't far away.

Unusual yes but it takes all kinds to make up a universe.

Only I seem to be stuck with the worst of them.

"Is that a problem?" I replied.

A cruel smile formed its way across Deacon's lips.

"Actually, as a matter of fact, it does" he said.

I could feel myself stiffen more with each passing second: I was beginning to pick up on the fact that as Deacon's vocal chords was getting a good workout, the tone was growing increasingly sinister.

Ever since he arrived on this planet, I have never really been entirely comfortable in Deacon's presence. However, he became all too aware of this because he frequently enjoyed freaking me out and generally be intimidating.

"For all I know" he continued. "You could be selling us out to the Orks"

I could feel my hands growing with sweat. I wasn't really enjoying the direction this conversation was taking.

Believe you me, Deacon wasn't the type of person one would seriously want to mess with.

And considering we, the only humans on this planet, were the scum of the universe that is saying a lot.

"That's absurd!" I countered. "Why the hell would I want to do a thing like that?"

"You're trying to save your own skin" came the reply.

"Me? Do a thing like that?! Never!"

It was there and then that I was struck with the dreadful sense of impending doom. I cast a brief look at Laertes, is if in hope he would step in and prevent a potential disaster happening.

But no such sign came. Instead his gaze was more focused on the jungle ahead. His grin was wide and words that formed a battle hymn to the Emperor came tumbling softly out of his mouth.

"So you say" Deacon growled. He sopped walking and then swung the barrel of his heavy stubber right around to point it right at my chest. This gesture prompted me to stop as well.

"But I'm not buying that kind of crap" he went on. "You don't want to share your food or your ammo. You want it all to yourself: And how do you do that? By selling us out the Orks so you can have the rest of us all killed off!"

"That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard!" I snarled at him. "Dammit man, whatever gave you that idea?!"

Deacon didn't reply – instead his eyes sparkled.

I felt a cold a shiver run down my spine – I recognised that sparkle: it was the one which meant that Deacon was eager for some killing and he will get it.

Even if it meant he had to find it within his own companions.

And finding any excuse, no matter how preposterous, to do so.

Being caught in such a nasty situation I was, unsurprisingly, packing death. Deacon wasn't the type of person one would want to get angry because once he was ready to kill someone; nothing would stop him until he got it.

One can only wonder why his soul hasn't already caught the attention of the Chaos God Khorne.

Dammit, where was Laertes?! Surely he could see this happening before him! And surely he may object!

But now, the priest was continuing his advance to the jungle, still chanting the battle hymn and completely oblivious to the conflict that was taken place behind him.

All in all there wasn't really a way out of this. So the only left for me to do was to rely on some well-chosen words.

And a lot of luck.

"Ah, you don't want to kill me" I said. "There's a whole planet of these damn greenskins for all of us"

"I know" Deacon growled. "I'll just kill them all once I'm done with you…"

"Bishop might question my absence!"

"You really think he'll care?"

I could feel my teeth clench – right now, the chances my survival weren't looking very good at all.

Suddenly a brainwave hit me!

"No Deacon" I grinned, my voice gradually increasing in volume. "You don't want to kill me"

Deacon fumed at the sight of my grin: which meant he hadn't noticed the change in my voice. It also meant he had swallowed the bait….

"And why wouldn't I want to kill you?" he growled in reply. "So far you've got on my nerves and that is good enough reason to shoot you"

"But you're a bad man" I retorted loudly. "A heavy _drinker_ I believe!"

Immediately, Laertes stopped walking.

Suddenly, in a flurry of movement, he then turned around and sprinted over, a look of ferocious zeal across his face.

Deacon blinked as realisation hit – but before he could do anything, the priest was all over him like flies on a Nurgle Plaguebearer. He charged in-between the two of us and started shouting at Deacon.

"Drinking!" Laertes shrieked. "One of the many sins that seduce the Emperor's children and gradually change them into a heretic! Drinking is the work of deviants and miscreants that should be dealt with by the purifying flame of absolution!"

Deacon groaned as the priest rattled off into one of his many lectures on the sins in the Emperor's eyes and how much evil is creating in the minds of the populace. Once Laertes started, there was next to nothing that could stop him. There was no escape…..

He looked in rage at me. I merely shrugged my shoulders and strode silently away, completely unnoticed by the ranting Laertes.

I chuckled to myself, relieved to have outwitted Deacon. I had to hand it the priest – sure his fanaticism may be problematic at times but it also meant that he can be easily manipulated should the correct words be applied.

I continued on my way towards the jungle (hey someone's got to carry on with the Dawn-watch)….

Drawing my two bolt pistols, I headed for the jungle………


	5. Epsilon

**Title:** Angelus Erroneous: Fabricati Diem

**Author**: Spike

**Chapter:** Five

Moving with the stealthiest of movements, I crept through the jungle. My skills I had picked up during my time as an Imperial Guardsman had not diminished and certainly got plenty of use ever since Dawn-Watch started.

My hands still gripped my trusty bolt-pistols but I could feel my ever-ready trigger finger twitch.

Obviously it was keen for some action.

Only problem with that idea was that this was a patrol mission…..

With each step I could hear the leaves of the forest floor crunch beneath my feet….

I could hear the soft whine of some insect.

I could sense a soft breeze drift through the greenery….

My finger continued to twitch….

My eyes darted left and right, trying to find something to report back to Bishop.

My feet ground to a halt.

My finger continued to twitch….

Before me, upon a leaf, crawled a tiny beetle.

My ears struggle to pick up the sound of an interloper to this scene….

My finger continued to twitch….

Suddenly, I could feel my blood run cold.

I had the feeling I was being watched.

Immediately, all alarm bells went off in my mind. I had the feeling I was being watched yet but not by an Ork. An Ork would rip my head off without a second's hesitation.

No, what I was felling was the sense of another.

Someone who wasn't a green-skin. .

What was that?

I spun around in a flash, my ears having picked up the sound of a leaf being brushed behind me.

And what happened next happened quickly.

I could see something. Something small that moved in the blink of an eye. It suddenly appeared and, in the blink of an eye, nothing was there.

I blinked in disbelief, my brain trying to register what it was I just saw.

Eventually it came to me: it was metallic, and it blazed with an uneasy red.

My head started spinning. What the hell was that? That wasn't anything of any Orkish origin nor did it seem like anything the savage Orks of this miserable rock could muster.

I tried to dismiss it as a trick of the mind but my sense of reason refused to accept it.

Then an uneasy thought came to mind, something that bore into my mind and refused to leave.

We guerrillas may be watching the Orks but is someone watching us?

Suddenly my train of thought was interrupted by something new.

It was the sound of feet approaching.

The feet that were running.

Running in steps the suggested huge feet supporting a large weight.

Immediately, all thoughts of seeing metallic objects vanished and my grip on my bolt pistols grew tighter.

My finger continued to twitch….

I then grew apprehensive. Who was this approaching? Could it be one of my allies or one of the Orcs?

Or a clue to that metallic thing I just saw?

My senses alerted me to sone particular about the sound of the approaching feet.

They were heading this way.

My finger continued to twitch….

I aimed one of my bolt pistols in the direction that the feet were coming form.

My gaze burned down the barrel of the pistol to the fernery

My finger continued to twitch….

When suddenly I balked: The tension had been building up inside of me suddenly exploded and provoked me into movement. So I dived out of the way and into the undergrowth.

Once under the cover of the greenery, I cursed under my breath. This wasn't normal.

Nevertheless, under this cover I should see who it is approaching and how to deal with them.

Seconds later, my suspicions were confirmed: A massive Ork burst out from the undergrowth.

This Ork was just like every other greenskin on this miserable rock: He had the distinctive bucket-shaped jaw, beady red eyes, bare chest sporting a range of scars, crude-made trousers, bare scalp, and a brutal selection of weaponry in a boltgun and an axe. And much like the green-skins we'd encountered the day before, he boasted the crude insignia of a red axe crossed with a jawbone – only this time it was tattooed across his chest.

And just like every other Ork here, he was just as ugly.

The Ork's pace ground to a halt ad he paused. He then began sniffing the air and emitted a soft growl.

I blinked. What was this one doing here? And all by himself?

No matter – if he can smell me out then that scumsuckin' greenskin should be dealt with just like other of his ilk.

I gripped my bolt pistol tightly and slowly raised my arm. Without making any sound at all, I aimed the barrel out from my concealed position.

I was about to pull the trigger….

….when I felt something metal being pressed against my head.

My blood went cold. The metal in question felt like the distinctive rim of the barrel of a heavy stubber.

This was soon followed by the stench of burning tobacco and a gravely voice which I didn't really want to hear.

"Nice try there, small fry"

I smiled – one which Deacon couldn't see.

"Good trick there - diverting my attention by manipulating that lunatic priest" he went on "But that doesn't really do a lot for you!"

"Where is Laertes?" I replied.

"I managed to escape him" Deacon growled.

My ears detected the sound of the gunner puffing on his cigar. He then continued:

"But don't think you're going to escape me blowing your brains out. As far as I know, you're selling us out to the Orks."

I did consider snapping back a ferocious retort and protest my innocence but, considering I was still aiming my bolt-pistol at the Ork and was being held in check by a psychopath, that didn't really seem like a bright idea.

Deacon then must've noticed the Ork standing outside in the open for he then inquired: "So who's your friend?"

"Some stinking greenskin whom I'm going to the favour of putting him out of his misery" I growled back. "Look at him, he's begging for it"

Deacon replied with a soft chuckle.

"Threatening to kill the prick you sold us out to?" he sneered. "A cunning bluff there"

My gaze kept on the Ork – by now, he was sniffing the air in absolute suspicion. Judging by his facial expression, he had sensed the stench of humans had grown stronger – largely due to the fact that Deacon has just shown up – and the Ork wasn't liking this at all. By now, his teeth were bared and he started growling in a bestial manner.

Miraculously however, the Ork did not seem aware of the hiding place where myself and Deacon were concealed.

Yet.

But considering that I was caught between two homicidal lunatics, this situation wasn't looking out to be so crash-hot for me.

In desperation, I shot back at Deacon.

"Are you crazy?! There's an Ork out there. If he finds us before I nail him then he are finished!"

"Well then" Deacon sneered. "Perhaps you should get rid of him. Then I can have the pleasure of getting rid of you all to myself"

Normally, Deacon was the most silent out of the six of us – but that was only when we're not in combat. Needless to say, this situation was perhaps the most talkative he had ever been since we met. It was likely that he had fallen to the prospect of bloodlust and was all too willing to surrender to it.

And that's certainly reason enough to be worried.

"Dammit man!" I retorted. "Can you get it through your thick head?! I'm not in league with the fucking Orks! I would rather die than do such a thing!"

"Really?" Deacon replied. "Then that suits me fine!"

Frustrated, I tried to change his mindset: "When you snuck up behind me, did you see something unusual?"

"What?"

"I saw something strange before" I said "Something that didn't look Orkish at all"

"The only thing I see strange is that you're still alive even when I have you at close range!" Deacon snapped

"It looked metallic and it moved quickly…"

"Don't try and change the subject small fry!"

I groaned – this was just getting better and better. It seems there was no way I could get out of here alive.

But suddenly, something happened that changed everything.

From out of nowhere, came a ferocious burst of flame. It came screaming out from the undergrowth, incinerating all the undergrowth in it's path, turning what was green into ash and cinder.

Deacon must've been completely surprised by this move for I felt the rim of the heavy stubber's barrel lift away from the back of my skull. Now free from certain death, I daringly cast a gaze back over my shoulder.

The gunner didn't seem to notice me at all. Instead, he was glaring at the priest, a snarl on his face, thus betraying his disgust.

Laertes meanwhile, stormed over, his face lined with an expression that had enough enraged fury that a Greater Daemon of Khorne would admire.

The priest strode up to Deacon and thrust his face right up close to the gunner.

I blinked with the sudden dread that someone, who was aware that their planet was about to face the Exterminatus, would feel.

After a brief pause, words began grinding their way from Laertes' throat:

"I don't recall saying I was finished telling you about the dangers of the sin within the Emperor's gaze"

If Deacon was intimidated he certainly didn't show it.

"You think I care?" he growled.

Just then Deacon sensed something metal being rammed up hard against his chin – something that burned of petrol and flame and resembled a flamer.

"You should you know" Laertes snarled back.

I offered myself a small smile of relief. Sure there Laertes' fanaticism created more than difficulties then what was necessary but it sure had its benefits.

And you had to hand it to the man – when he's convinced the Emperor is with him, he has absolutely nothing to fear. This makes him the only one who would dare stand up to a psychopath like Deacon.

"You certainly have a lot of balls about you" the gunner sneered.

"All in a days' work of hunting down the heretics that profane His name" the priest retorted.

I allowed my body to washed away in a hurricane of relief. With Laertes occupying the gunner's mind, it should draw Deacon's train of thought away from me. This would then give me the time and space to do something about this meddlesome Ork…..

The Ork?!

I quickly darted my gaze back to the where I last saw the greenskin.

He was still there.

Obviously he hadn't been expecting to see any of the hated humans on this planet so he stood there, in what could be describe as a state of disbelief.

I blinked before leaping out of my hiding place.

Immediately I forget all about getting one over Deacon. I also forgot all about Laertes and the sounds of him rattling on and on about the dangers of sin. Instead, I grew wary of why we were sent out here in the first place:

To make sure no Orks find out about us at all.

And as far as I was concerned, there was one standing right in front of us whom was just begging to have his brains blown out.

With both bolt pistols in each hand, I slowly advanced on the greenskin.

The greenskin didn't move – instead he blinked. Seems he was more in a state of shock at this rather unexpected discovery on this planet

I gripped my pistol and gazed down the barrel at the unlucky bastard.

Unlucky?! No, scratch that – He is an Ork after all.

Suddenly it happened.

He began bellowing. A huge bestial roar burst from his throat and rang out across the jungle, sending everything shaking.

"You sure are a noisy bastard you know that" I snarled from gritted teeth.

So, I did what anyone would do in that type of situation: I pulled the trigger and sent shells of hot lead in his direction.

The Ork took them full on the face. He then went flying over backwards as the shells penetrated their way into his brain.

To give him the message that he was dead.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Mission successful.

But then I was struck by an alarming thought.

That roar he issued was fairly loud – perhaps it was likely that other Orks could hear it….

I looked up – to see Deacon and Laertes come storming over.

"Nice going bozo" the gunner growled. "You should've shot him when you had the chance!"

"So?" I retorted.

Deacon growled and grabbed me by my collar.

"That scream of his could've been heard for miles! Now every Ork on this planet will come looking for him!"

"Why would you care?" I snapped back "After all, it's more killing for you!"

"Really?" the gunner snapped back. "I would rather see you dead than face a whole horde of Orks rampaging after us!"

_The feeling's mutual_ I thought.

Suddenly the jungle was rocked with an explosion of noise – it was a ferocious roar that brought all noise to stand still. It was the type of noise that a very large and angry Ork would make….

The three of us blinked at each other in bewilderment.

"What…what in the name of all that is holy was that?" Laertes inquired.

"It's proof" Deacon growled, his eyes glaring at me "Proof enough that this moron has now brought each and every Ork down upon us!"

Upon hearing this, I then felt a cold shiver flow down my spine.

This situation keeps getting better and better – not only am I trapped with a lunatic who wants me dead but now I now face the rather unpleasant prospect of being torn apart by a horde of approaching Orks.

Just simply wonderful…..

Indeed, now would be a good time to locate some allies……….

"Wait" the priest interjected "The Orks are heading this way?"

"That's right" I replied, thinking quickly. "That means lot's of heretics for you to purify!"

At the mention of this, the priest's eyes blazed with eager fervour. He then reached for his flamer and gripped it with the passion that was both sick and affectionate.

"Then let them come" the priest growled. "And I shall bring them the absolution of the Emperor's light!"

Deacon blinked – but he didn't notice the small smirk that made its way across my face.

Just then, another roar bellowed it's way across the jungle – sending the ground quavering and several leaves drifting from the trees.

I gripped my twin bolt pistols tightly, Deacon readied his heavy stubber and Laertes' eyes began blazing in fanatical passion.

"Seems like your friends are well on their way" Deacon growled in my direction.

"No – there's just a lot of Orks" I retorted back.

Deacon opened his mouth to speak – but was beaten by Leartes.

"Gentlemen" the priest declared "We are standing on the threshold of a glorious battle. The Emperor has seen fit that we be at this spot to bring down all the heretics that profane His name!"

I blinked as Laertes continued:

"If we can kill all those that challenge us, the Emperor will can us sanctuary so we will live forever alongside the Golden Throne itself!"

"How is that possible?" I inquired. "I doubt the Adeptus Custodians would appreciate our presence in that throne room…"

"Don't you understand infidel?!" the priest snarled "This moment is our hour! We have a horde of heretics being delivered to us so we can butcher them all! This is destiny!"

"No, I see a horde of Orks wanting to kill us" Deacon growled.

Laertes' eyes blazed with fire at the gunner's retort.

"Heathen!" he bellowed "You dare question the Emperor's will?!"

"And what if I do?" Deacon snapped.

"Then that make you better than the heretics that infest this galaxy!" Laertes fumed, as he stormed over to confront the gunner, stopping mere inches away from him. "And the Emperor commands that all heretics should be purified!"

"And what if I don't want to?" Deacon growled, leaning forward so his face was within inches of the priest's.

"Well it means good news for me" Laertes grinned. "Because it is real pleasure to send all heretics to their deaths.

"Trust me" he added, running his hand up and down his flamer in a loving fashion. "This won't hurt a bit. You'll thank me later when I see you with the Emperor."

This exchange brought Deacon and Laertes on a rapid descent into arguing. But I paid no attention – I was more concerned with what was heading this way.

If there was a horde of very angry Orks heading this way then th leats I could do was put them out of my misery.

So, I glared at the jungle, my eyes expecting to see this horde burst out, waving weapons and screaming like their lives depended on it.

I grit my teeth as my finger began twitching over the trigger.

Come on, I know you're in there somewhere…..

I could feel perspiration break out across my forehead, and my trigger finger growing increasingly uneasy.

And Laertes still continued to lecture Deacon….

Finally it happened:

I snapped.

With a roar of frustration, I opened fire onto the nearest tree. Three shots burst from the barrel of my bolt pistol only to scream across the air and bury themselves into the cold surface of the trunk.

My blinked through the smoke as it drifted out from the barrel.

In front of me, there were three black holes embedded in tree trunk. All sent the unmistakable stench of hot lead into the air.

But nothing moved.

I flicked my gaze back at Laertes and Deacon. Already Deacon had his eye on me – possibly he been attracted by me firing off my bolt pistol.

"What's up with him?" I managed to hear him say. He then shoved Laertes aside and started making his way over to me.

My gaze returned to the boulder.

I fired another shot…..

But it was there and then that I saw it:

There, out of the corner of my eye and lurking discreetly within the trees was a bald head consisting of green flesh and a pair of beady red eyes.

I grinned evilly.

"There you are" I said. "I've been looking all over for you"

Suddenly, without warning, the Ork bolted. He immediately turned tail and ran!

I blinked – this was odd. Why would he run off like that? Normally any Ork would come charging forward at the sight of an enemy.

But chances are he wasn't expecting to see anyone else on this planet.

Well, anyone that's not a greenskin at least.

"BASTARD!" I yelled.

"Hey, what's going on?" came a shout.

I looked back over my shoulder to see Deacon hurrying over. Laertes followed close behind, still rattling on about the evils that plague the Emperor's universe and why His loyal subjects should maintain a mind that is steadfast against such temptations.

"Greenskin!" I shouted, gesturing towards the intruding Ork, as he plunged deeper into the edge of the forest.

"I see him" Deacon growled, as he skidded to a stop.

He then unslung his heavy stubber and slammed a fresh cartridge of ammunition into it.

"Prepare to die greenskin" he growled.

But before he could open fire with that lethal weapon, the retreating Ork began bellowing out a bestial roar, screaming in the general of the direction of the forest that lay at the bottom of the slope.

And suddenly, in reply of the Ork's roar, the forest suddenly erupted. Immediately, a whole group of Orks suddenly burst from the trees, all waving their axe-like weapons in a wild fashion and firing random shells from their equally ill-manufactured weapons.

I cast a gaze at the other two.

"We've been discovered!" I shouted.

Deacon merely grinned an evil grin.

"Well, looks like we have some sport this morning" he said. "There's a first"

"What are you talking about?" I shot back.

"Well I don't know about you" he replied, gripping his heavy stubber tightly in anticipation "But I'm not going to stand around yakking whilst there are some greenskins charging towards me."

And with that, he strode down the slope, his heavy stubber gripped eagerly in his hand.

Laertes and myself exchanged glances. Then I smiled in sick satisfaction. Who am I to pass up the opportunity to kill some more Orks?

"Well Laertes" I grinned, as I drew forth my other bolt pistol. "Looks like a whole bunch of heretics have come your way. Guess you'll gladly bring them to the Emperor's purifying flame of absolution?"

At the mention of this, the priest' eyes sparkled. Immediately forgetting about our argument mere minutes ago, he reached behind his back to grasp his trusty flamer. He then connected the flamer's fuel cable to a canister that was attached to his belt.

"Prepare to receive the Emperor's mercy, heretics!" he growled under his breath.

And then, whispering some prayer of battle from ancient text, he engaged his flamer.

Immediately a burst of flame burst out from the nozzle, enlightening the jungle. The charging Orks were immediately incinerated in a blast of red and orange.

When the smoke cleared, it produced a selection of mixed results: The flames had managed to down some of the Orks whilst others had been set ablaze – thus prompting them to run around and screaming in alarm. But there still Orks that thundered towards us, murderous intent blazing in their eyes.

All in all, the flames were enough to hinder the charge but it didn't do much to halt the charge completely.

Deacon turned to me, hatred blazing in his eye.

"Watch my back" he growled. "I'm going to fry all of them!"

And to prove his point, he open fire onto the charging Orks. The Heavy stubber sprayed hot lead in the general direction the greenskins were running into.

I blinked before gripping my two bolt pistols and opening fire.

These Orks seemed rather bigger than usual: they were large, even by the standards we've encountered so far on this miserable rock. Compared the other Orks on this planet this mob had even larger muscles than before, their teeth were enormous tusks and they seemed much uglier.

"All right then" Deacon bellowed over the roar of his heavy stubber. "Who's wants to die first?!"

The nearest Ork immediately replied with a ferocious snarl – whether or not he understood the challenge is anyone's guess. But, judging by the way he heaved his weapon above his head and the way he charged forward, indicated that he was only to happy to spill some blood of the hated humans.

But it didn't seem to bother Deacon too much: Instead, he merely grinned and continued firing with his stubber.

As such, the Ork was riddled with red-hot shrapnel. His forearm was severed free in a matter of seconds, his chest was blown apart in a haze of red blood and his mouth was ripped open along with his throat that, where it had once roared forth a challenge had not become a scream of pain.

His fellow greenskins that stood beside him didn't fare better: Faced with so much firepower coming from Deacon, they wouldn't have stood much of a chance. Like the first one, they were hit with so much firepower that they were brought off their feet and sent crashing down onto the jungle floor.

Or at least that's what they should've been doing.

Normally, they would've fallen to the firepower from both Deacon's heavy stubber and my twin bolt pistols. But that wasn't the case here.

No, being of a much larger size, they were certainly capable of taking a tremendous amount of pounding. Shooting at them was one thing but making sure they stay down was another. No, these Orks just kept advancing under the hail of fire that these two desperadoes issued.

This made me feel somewhat uneasy. These Orks just didn't want to slow down – they just coming: For everyone I downed, another two emerged to take his place. Some of them actually seemed hardly bothered by the sight of being faced by three desperados with better weaponry. They still advanced, crude axes and bludgeons at the ready and enormous muscles bursting all over.

I grit my teeth. One bolt shell got one Ork right between the eyes, another shell downed a second with a shower of blood, another shell brought a third toppling down as his bestial battle cry died down to a whimper.

Several feet away, Deacon was firing his heavy stubber like there was no tomorrow. Each round of ammunition was being slammed into the stubber and fired out in incredible bursts. The air was split with the stubber's distinctive smoke and loud roar.

But the noise of the heavy weapon was joined by the cackling of Deacon, his battle-lust as strong as it ever will be.

The shells of the heavy stubber was having more luck at downing these Orks then I was. A huge spray of bullets carpeted the forest floor, striking the Orks in every position available: the head, the arm, the chest and the legs. The heavy stubber was doing enough to keep the tide at bay but not enough to halt it.

Laertes, on the other hand, wasn't standing with the myself and Deacon. He preferred to attack the horde not at an arm's length but directly. He gripped his flamer with ferocious passion and let loose bursts after bursts of flame. His eyes blazed with the unmistakable fanaticism.

"There's a lot of them!" I shouted.

"The more the merrier" Deacon snarled back.

"There's too many of them! And nothing seems to be keeping them back!"

"You don't fight battles with words small fry!" Deacon roared back.

Even as I shouted these words at the gunner, I could still feel my two trigger fingers issuing round after round of deadly ammunition into the Orks. My eyes never lost sight of them all this time – I could still feel their red eyes glaring at me with utter hatred, the sweat from their green-skin and the distinctive Orkish instincts that preached hatred of all humans.

I grit my teeth, perspiration dripping from my forehead.

"YOU'RE NOT GONNA TAKE ME, YOU FILTHY PIECES OF PIGSHIT!!!!" I bellowed.


	6. Zeta

**Title:** Angelus Erroneous: Fabricati Diem

**Author**: Spike

**Chapter:** Six

I gazed around the battlefield. This had been a tough fought battle. I could still feel the heat from my two bolt pistols from constant usage. All around, there lay the bodies of the enormous Orks.

I could still feel my breaths coming out in short bursts. Perhaps I should be thankful that I'm still alive: This has been the most intense battle I had ever fought on this miserable rock. I had managed to crawl my way to the top of a heap when confronted by Orks who amassed in a huge tide that just kept rumbling on and on, determined to spill blood at any cost.

Like I said, I had never fought a battle like that one before.

Beside's there was no way in hell I would ever let myself lose to a stinking green-skin…….

Just then, I noticed something: All of the Orks bore the insignia seen before: The crude image of a red jawbone crossing the red axe. It appeared as tattoos and as inscriptions on both weapons and armour. It was also just like the same insignia we'd seen on the Orks the day before.

Seems we've wandered into some tribal lands.

Well there's a first.

Before now, I've never really cleared

Suddenly, my thoughts were interrupted by the sound of steel-capped boots crunching their way across the bones of the fallen Orks.

I could feel my blood go cold – It didn't take a Tech-Priest of Mars to know who this could be. I looked up to see Deacon. His clothing was blooded and torn, his heavy stubber was smoking and the weariness of battle was written all across his face.

It seems that he too had certainly felt sheer mayhem that was this battle.

But what I found disturbing was his expression. No emotion was displayed across it and his distinctive glare of hatred was still burned at me.

I gulped. It seems no amount of fighting can really change Deacon at all.

He reached into a pocket and pulled out a cigar. He lit it up and took a puff.

"I see you're still alive" I called.

"Likewise" he growled back, between puffs.

"There certainly were a lot of them – do you reckon we stumbled across an encampment?'

"It's possible"

"What I don't understand was just how big these green-skins were. Compared to what we've encountered before, these ones are enormous!"

This comment did little to inspire a reply from Deacon but I continued regardless:

"Look at this" I said "These Orks are all bearing the same insignia as the lot we encountered yesterday. And they seem much larger and tougher to what we've faced before. Seems we're walking into someone's territory"

"Does that really matter?" Deacon snarled "I though all Orks looked alike to me. And they're all lining up to get plastered. "

Man it sure sucks being the voice of reason sometimes

Regardless I continued: "I sure hope I don't meet bastards like these when I'm on this rock…."

"Really?" Deacon said softly. "I hope we do"

I blinked as the gunner took another puff of his cigar. His glaring eyes locked onto me as he continued:

"I was hoping those Orks would spare me the trouble of putting you out of my misery."

"The irony of fate huh?" I sneered.

Of course, this wasn't the best thing to say: Deacon's mouth immediately morphed into a scowl and he stormed over to confront me. He got to within a foot of me and leaned in close.

I could feel the heat from his cigar burning it's way through the air between us. I could feel his breath billowing out noxious fumes before me. And I could sense his glare making his annoyance for me all too clear.

But never once did I flinch.

"You may have survived this battle" he growled. "But who's to say that you'll survive the rest of this day? And the next day? And the day after that?"

My brow furrowed. I didn't reply because I could easily identify the rage within Deacon. When he's being this talkative, it very much means that his bloodlust is still present.

And he may find an excuse to get in – even if it means within me.

"I'll be watching my back if I were you" he went on.

"Don't I do that enough already?" I retorted.

"Point noted" Deacon growled "but if the Orks don't get you – I will"

And with that he pushed his past me and headed off into the jungle.

I blinked. No doubt he would be heading his way back to camp. And to report to Bishop about the events of this morning.

But then again, why should he bother me? We're all marooned on this Ork-world so what difference would another blood-thirsty psychopath make?

I guess the difference being the psychopath in question happens to a member of your own species.

Just then, I heard another noise.

I looked up to see Laertes making his way towards me. His flamer was smoking. His hands were blackened from the heat, his priestly robes were stained with flame, petrol and blood but he had an enormous smile on his face.

I blinked. Out of the three of us it seems he was hardly concerned with his own survival….

"Still alive are you?" I said.

"Absolutely!" he beamed.

"I gather you sent more heretics to their deaths?"

"Oh absolutely!" he said, the elation radiant in his voice. "The Emperor saw fit to deliver me those greenskins and I purified all their impure souls!

"And the day is only just beginning! Just think, there are more souls on this planet for me to deliver to light!"

"I'm just glad to be alive" I murmured.

"Then the Emperor must have his eye on you and seen you fit to survive this morning's battle" the priest declared.

My eyes narrowed.

"Do you really believe that He is watching us on this miserable rock?"

"Of course!" Laertes said. "The Emperor watches over all his children"

I blinked, recalling the conversation we had earlier that morning. At the moment, his spirits are as high as they will ever be – and as such, he doesn't seem to recall the argument we had……

Therefore, perhaps I should be consider myself fortunate.

Better not push it then….

"Come on" I said. "Let's get back to camp"

He nodded.

"So that's what happened?"

Bishop fixed the three of us with a quizzical eye. I adopted an expression of battle-weariness and hardened eyes – both of which should be enough to convince our de-facto leader.

Deacon however, showed no facial expression at all. But the stench of blood and heavy stubber smoke was perhaps enough evidence the support our testimony of the morning's events.

Naturally, there was nothing in Deacon's facial expression that provided any hint of the conflicts between him and myself. Naturally, Bishop would have no such thing as dissension within his ranks and would most certainly deal with such thing immediately (hey, we're the only humans on this miserable rock after all, so the least we could do was work together).

But as Deacons facial expression suggested nothing else happened in this mornings' battle, Bishop was easily convinced.

I could feel the hatred swelling inside of me. The cunning bastard…..

Laertes, on the other hand, was silent – his maniacal grin and the elation within his eyes said it all.

We had only arrived back at camp a few minutes ago. Already, the dawn had passed and the sun had well and truly appeared from beyond the horizon. The moment we got back, we were immediately cornered by Bishop, wanting to know the results from this morning's Dawn-Watch. As we told him the encounter we had, both Xerxes and Jessie emerged from the encampment, listening attentively.

"You mentioned these Orks seemed tougher than normal" Bishop inquired "How so?"

"They seemed much bigger and muscular" I said. "They seemed able to take a tremendous amount from us in the terms of firepower."

"Yeah?"

"They seemed capable of withstanding numerous shots and still be able to keep on coming"

Suddenly, I heard the sound of running feet: I looked up to see Jessie come hurrying over.

Her eyes were sparkling.

I suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable: If Jessie was like this then that can only mean one thing….

"Stronger Orks?" she beamed "DO go on"

"We seem to have wandered into some region where the Orks seem bigger and more powerful than anything we've faced before" I managed to mumble.

But it was still enough: Jessie's face suddenly burst with enthusiasm and she began looking eagerly to the rest of us.

"So then" she said "When are we hunting them down? Now?"

"Who said we're hunting them down?" Bishop snapped.

Jessie blinked in surprise.

"If we have truly wandered into more dangerous territory" Our Fearless Leader mused "then the longer we remain here at this encampment, the greater danger this position will become"

"That's nonsense!" Deacon snapped suddenly.

Immediately, all eyes turned towards the gunner.

I raise an eyebrow. This was the first time I had ever seen Deacon argue with Our Fearless Leader.

Being the lapdog that he is.

"Come on, what we need to fear from another bunch of green-skins?!" Deacon went on "So what if they seem more powerful than normal, they're only Orks! We've slain many before and we can keep on doing it!"

"I agree entirely!" Jessie chimed in.

"Always taking the more challenging route of a problem I see" Xerxes murmured.

"Damn right I am!" Deacon retorted, the all too familiar unsettling spark of battle-lust already enlightening within his eye.

"I concur!" Laertes added "We should stay here – this is after all, the will of the Emperor that he delivers me more heretics to purify!"

"Are you crazy?!" I yelled. "If we stay here we'll get ourselves killed!"

Bishop's eyes hardened, wondering how long this exchange would catapult into an argument where everyone would be at each others throats.

"If you deny me from the purification of any heretic then you're no better than they are!" the priest argued.

"What's the matter Narc?' Jessie added. "Anyone would think you're chickening out of the prospect of killing more Orks."

"What?"

"I never thought you were one to avoid any combat" she mocked "Particularly when it involved Orks. And I thought you had more balls than that"

Deacon took a step back and lit up another cigar.

He made no move whatsoever to enter this debate any further, particualry when he got the whole thing up and running. Deacon favoured instead to merely to puff away in a manner that wondered when this debate was going to reach a resolution.

One that is inspired without his involvement.

Smug bastard….

"Are you trying to tell us you're a coward Narc?" Laertes growled, his hand reaching out and grabbing by the front of my shirt (Geez, this has happened to me a lot ever since I've been travelling with these people).

"We don't need cowards like you!" the priest continued "Cowards who are too scared to take a stand in the Emperor's name!"

Faced with such words may seem intimidating but I just didn't bat an eyelid

"Of course you are" Laertes snarled. "You turned your back on the Emperor! And that makes you a heretic!"

Suddenly, I could feel myself growing cold – This situation wasn't looking good. Sure it didn't take much to convince Laertes that anyone was a heretic but at the same time, he certainly showed a merciless ferocity to those whom he considered a heretic.

And in that case this would be me…..

I could feel my hand reaching towards one of bolt-pistols…..

When suddenly a cool commanding voice cut in:

"All right that's quite enough."

Bishop strolled over a stern gaze across his face.

"Leave him alone, both of you"

Well, he sure took his time getting involved.

Jessie blinked, her face a mixture of reluctance and annoyance. But in spite of it all, she recognised Bishop's authority and moved away from me.

Laertes however, being merely seconds from being overcome with one of his explosions of violent fanaticism, didn't make any such move whatsoever.

"Father?" Bishop snapped

Instead of making the desired move, the priest glared back at Bishop.

"You dare stand in my way?"

"And what if I do?"

"No shall dare!" the priest roared. "The Emperor is on my side!"

"So let's see your Emperor deals with this!" And with that he grabbed the priest with that bionic arm of his. And with a burst of well-used mechanics, Bishop threw Laertes aside, sending the priest flat upon his back.

Bishop sure loved to send Laertes off the enemy but is only now that he'd begun to realise that there were times when he seemed beyond our control

"Now do shut up will you?" Our Fearless Leader snapped.

But if he thought that would break Laertes from his fanaticism, Bishop was wrong.

Flat on his back, the priest managed to prop himself up into a seating position.

"I won't!" Laertes yelled "if you challenge my judgement than that must make you a heretic as well!"

With a growl of frustration, Bishop strode over, lent forward and grabbed the priest by the collar of his robe. This was soon followed with a right hook delivered straight from Bishop's bionic arm.

And for the first time that morning, Laertes fell silent. His form crumbled to the ground silently.

"That's a bit rough" I muttered.

"Don't worry" Bishop replied "He was just having one of his moods. When he wakes up, he'll forget that this incident ever happened."

(Such a thing has happened before)

"Now where were we?" our leader then said "Ah yes, we were debating whether not we were staying here and avoiding these supposed super powered Orks.

"As the _private_ so graciously pointed out"

"We should leave!" I said quickly.

"Forget it!" Jessie snapped "We should stay here!"

Bishop sighed, his hand moving up to hold his forehead.

"Well looks like we'll be settling this the old-fashioned way" he murmured "Via a democratic method"

The rest of us blinked. We all knew about this – it was Bishop's final way of settling disputes. When shouting at us, breaking our bones and just generally being a tyrannical bastard didn't work, he would fall back to democracy.

Of courses no sane person would ever consider using such an initiative in amongst a group of desperadoes like ourselves but Bishop could get away with it simply because he was our leader and we all needed his intellect and guidance.

And all for good reason too.

And besides, when you're with the only humans on this planet, the least you could do was look out for one another.

"All right then" Bishop said. "We have two choices here: Either we stay or we leave"

He looked at each of us in turn – all except Laertes, whom was still out for the count, and Deacon. The gunner didn't seem in any way interested and he continued puffing on his cigar. As such, Bishop didn't pay him any attention – this wasn't unusual behaviour: whilst Deacon was the only one would listen to our esteemed leader for orders, Bishop didn't seem to argue with the gunner on anything.

It makes me wonder what degree of interaction these have with each other……

"So who votes we leave?" Bishop asked.

Both his hand and my hand shot.

"Very well then" Bishop said. "Who votes we stay?"

Only Jessie's hand was raised.

"You're out-voted" our esteemed leader resolved.

"That's bullshit!" Jessie snapped.

"Really?" Bishop said, rasing an eyebrow.

I began to feel uneasy. In all honesty, Bishop may be no more of a desperado than the rest of us but he is our commander and certainly not the type to argue with.

Doing so usually meant a fist to face.

Strangely enough, I've never seen him to it to anyone else…..

"I do recall that Laertes has yet to make a vote" Jessie challenged "And he seemed rather keen on staying here"

Bishop sighed.

"Okay, I'll take Laertes' vote" he said, his voice both one of annoyance and one willing to play along, "But you do realise that this places this decision within a deadlock"

This is strange: Bishop normally flattens someone for arguing with his commands….

I guess he's currently in a position where he can't get away with such a thing.

And his influence as leader must be weakening….

"What about Xerxes?" Jessie inquired "He hasn't made any say in this"

Immediately all eyes fell on the former Rogue Trader.

He blinked, his facial expression betraying his unease.

"Silent are you?" Bishop said.

Xerxes smiled – but it did nothing to conceal his awkwardness within this situation.

"We need your input on this one" Our Fearless Leader said "Your decision could ultimately decide what we do next."

The former Rogue Trader still hesitated.

"So then" Bishop asked "What it'll be? Do we stay here? Or do we leave?"

Xerxes clearly didn't seem very comfortable with three pairs of eyes glaring at him – particularly when one of those pairs belonged to a female of homicidal intent.

Eventually, he cleared his throat.

"I'm going with Bishop and Narc" he said firmly.


	7. Eta

**Title:** Angelus Erroneous: Fabricati Diem

**Author**: Spike

**Chapter:** Seven

It would be fair to say that out of all of us, Deacon had the greatest battle experience.

And such an assumption would be the understatement of the century.

Sure myself, Bishop and Jessie have had considerable experience within the military, and even Xerxes and Laertes knew enough about combat to at least pick up a gun and using it kill someone but all of these was surpassed by Deacon's understanding of combat. Out of the six of us, his knowledge of firearms was also without equal. Deacon could identify any sort of weapon with nothing more than a simple glance, he could tell the reliability of any weapon by just looking at it and he could sense an empty magazine of bullets just by picking up any gun. Henceforth, we relied upon him for weapon maintenance and ammunition rationing.

However he doesn't talk much – he came to this planet with Laertes and Jessie in the same prison ship that crash-landed here. Since then he has been keeping pretty much to himself, speaking only to answer questions (with answers as minimal as possible), and only showing any contact with the rest of us when we took in our weapons for inspection.

And the more than occasional time when he's threatened lives.

Funny how it always seems to be me.

All other times, he is rarely seen and the few times we do see him he is practically never seen without a cigar protruding from his mouth.

According to Jessie and Laertes, he was always like this on board the prison ship. Consequentially, none of us know anything about Deacon. And within time the lack of knowledge evolved into a frustration. A frustration that triggered all types of questions: Who was he? Where did he come from? Why was he consistently silent? What happened to him before he arrived here? Does he even like us? And what are the chances of him turning against us?

And what's with his ruthlessly homicidal intent?

It wasn't any use asking him directly for he would react with either silence, ignorance, walking off or, on several occasions, pulling a gun on us.

Finally it got to the point where another source was sought out.

When the prison ship that gave us Laertes, Jessie and Deacon crashed landed on this miserable rock, we did perform a looting upon it, looking for material to use, like we always did.

Only on this occasion we took vital date form the ship: The prisoner data slats.

Normally we don't swipe that kind of thing – usually the computers and other data outlets on board Imperial spacecraft are either used once only for finding out what was on it (not that it's ever been of much help to us). Only then they are used for either relaxing against or being thrown at any Orkish assailants.

But on this particular occasion, this was a prison ship. And like any other prison ship, the data slats were of some importance to use as it contained the prisoner slats containing records of each and every prisoner on board that crate.

That in my mind, was reason enough to take with me.

After all, why leave that thing lying around when anyone else could find it?

Since then, I took regular looks into the records - when no one was looking of course. I managed to bypass the intense security measures and gained permanent access via the usual methods of retrieving the necessary requirements from the bodies of the dead wardens (including slicing off any necessary body parts – Gotta love that part). This allowed me to take a look through the records of each and every prisoner on board the ship.

Hey, we're criminals standard on a planet that's beyond the interest of Imperial space! Therefore we can do whatever the fuck we like!

At first we looked through them all, observing all the hideous mugshots and studying the extensive list of crimes that been committed by each and every member.

Therefore, I didn't really pay much attention to Deacon's file when I first encountered it. However, it was only days later when I realised how futile he was at answering any questions, that I re-considered this and went back over his file.

Further contributing factors came in the fact that he was consistently menacing and looked ready to kill us all for a measly cred.

And he would most likely pummel a fist to the face then face questions of such nature.

Amazingly, Deacon didn't suspect anything. Neither did he seem bothered with the fact that such material could be left on the ship and found out quite easily.

Should he find out however, it would most likely result in a something both hideous and painful.

Anyway, it is through this method that I was able to find out what I currently know about Deacon. It came in the form of a testimonial he gave once he was incarcerated.

This document came as part of the criminal record stored in the database.

Deacon came from Necromunda where he became known for his skills with firearms. He had to be one of the best: He lived in a region owned by House Goliath called Arges X. Whilst House Goliath are known for being exceptionally industrious and possessing territories that were utter wastelands, this particular region was ravaged even by their standards . Under the Goliath's hands, Arges X became mainly an industrial complex – that was the only thing that could be reaped out of the miserable surface of the hive. But in spite of hardship, Arges X managed to prosper and built up huge single metropolitan area for all its inhabitants to live within. Gradually it expanded. But nothing dared venture out beyond its confines. Such was the extent of the damage caused by the industrialisation that there was no telling how it affected the areas surrounding Arges X. Stories proliferated of monsters and other nasty beasties but some people whisper that the stories weren't exaggerated….

However Arges X was particularly notable for being rife with anarchy and disorder – and for a region controlled by House Goliath, that is saying something. It was the type of world where it was every man for himself and one where the Enforcers continually fought a losing battle against the various anarchists who conducted acts of terrorism and spreading the pollution far beyond it's capacity. Not a day went by without something being blown up and several people being killed. The Goliath Gang had next to no power and only remained in their position just to appreciate the spectacle and to wait for everyone to kill each other over control of the region. They couldn't appeal to the Enforcers or any higher-ups for help because a) they couldn't be bothered and b) doing so will come into conflict with the outlaws who managed to fight their way into establishing a foothold on Arges X and hung onto it with a tyrannical iron grip. No one had any fear of the Enforcers or the Watchmen because they were too busy watching their own backs. Some desperate folk even tried to escape the mayhem by wandering into the wasteland beyond Arges X – but those who did were never heard of again.

Ultimately, Arges X was a haven for troublemakers across the Necromunda and not the type of place for an honest man wanting to make a peaceful life.

Being born and raised in such a dangerous place, meant that Deacon had to learn various combat skills in order to stay alive. Thus, his education came in the form of learning how to use a firearm: he was taught how to hold a laspistol before he could walk. And even from that early age, Deacon managed to develop a great aim and, as he got older, he began utilising many more pistols. By the time he was ten years old, he graduated into the usage of shotguns, lasguns, autoguns and even boltguns!

Thus, by the time he arrived at his mid-teens, Deacon had acquired a substantial knowledge of every firearm known to the Imperium and how to use it. Also, he acquired several ways to kill a man with his bare hands.

Being in such a hell-hole, there wasn't much in way of employment opportunities. There was only way anyone could get anywhere and that was through the usage of the gun and their own wits. Therefore, at the age of eighteen, Deacon's combat skills were brought to the attention of many gangs but the one who got there first was a Van Saar gang calling themselves the Black Dragons. But what made this gang unique was it was part of the Watchmen: A faction of gangs who had a clean enough record (as unlikely as it sounds) to be granted a degree of authority in keeping order around the Underhive. And seeing as Arges X was a hotbed of criminal activity and chaos, many Watchmen gangs flocked there, keen to make their mark.

Thus, the young Deacon was taken into the Black Dragons, under the guidance of a man called Vladmir. And, from there, quickly made his skills as a master assassin known. As the months went by, and his kill–total increased, Deacon built up a solid reputation across Arges X. Everyone feared him and every crime-lord wanted to hire him for themselves! Assassins were hired to hunt down Deacon but he eluded every one of them.

However, the partnership between Deacon and the Black Dragons wasn't to last forever: After four years working for him (a surprising large amount of time for a hired gun to work in Arges X) Vadimir eventually slipped up. As a consequence, he and his gang were ambushed by some outlaws. In the battle that followed, the Black Dragons were badly mauled and Vladimir got his throat slit. Deacon however, managed to evade capture and, keen on self-preservation, immediately sought out a new employer.

Whether by luck or his own survival skills, Deacon managed to claw his way through the scum of Arges X and built up an even greater reputation as a hired gun of exceptional ability. Now with his ties severed from the Black Dragons and being free to choose his own employment, Deacon found himself being faced with offers of work all across the region. Everyone, whether they were crime lords, little-known gangs of motley repute, minor figures wanting a rival dead or just some loan shark wanting some obstacles removed, wanted to utilise Deacon's expertise with firearms.

Consequently, Deacon went from one end of the planet to the other, offering his services to the highest bidder and killing anyone with any weapon on hand. He didn't care who he was hired by – thus, he frequently found himself fighting for two factions who had an intense rivalry with each other at the same time. Like most hired guns, the only master he heeded was the pay-packet. He did his job without question and did with professionalism, whilst solidifying his reputation as the best hired gun in Arges X.

However, Deacon sometimes exhibited strange behaviour: He occasionally hired his services out on the prospect of just how much intense battle was and how much fun he got out of it. These instances, although few and between, seemed to indicate that he had a gleeful outlook on battle itself. Reports even suggested that when the combat was ferocious and heated, he would often be found howling with laughter as his guns blazed and the people around him tumbled to their deaths. Such a peculiar way of operations made approaching him for a task an even more intimidating experience.

Such behaviour certainly raised a few eyebrows but, since Deacon did his job and did it well, no one thought about complaining.

Besides, what difference would one more madman make in the Underhive?

However, Deacon's life as a hired gun may have resulted in some benefits but it also yielded an equal amount of bad things. One time, he was hired by a secretive mob of Delaque that ran a minor crime racket within the depths of the Arges X underworld. Deacon's new found employers, who referred to themselves simply as M, didn't say much about themselves, but he gathered that they were newcomers to the world of crime and were keen to make their mark as a faction that weren't one to be messed with.

The mission they had set up for Deacon was a simple one: He was to attack a rival Orlock gang, known as the Hellhounds, and assassinate their leader. The employers said it was to make their presence known to the rest of Arges X, but Deacon couldn't care less: If anything, such intentions were no different than anything the rest of the many crime syndicates of Arges X could come up with.

The only difference was that these M bozos were offering a substantial amount of cash. And that reason was as good excuse to fight for this mob as any.

The plan was that Deacon will accompany the leader of M as he goes to a secret, pre-arranged meeting with a small confederation of the Hellhound's members. The Hellhounds were provided with the knowledge that this gathering would be the means of casting aside any past misgivings and establishing an alliance between the two gangs in order to work to the eventual goal of total domination of Arges X.

Strength in numbers if you will….

But in reality, the meeting was a front for an ambush: For as the leaders of M and the Hellhounds meet, the many soldiers of M will be luring under cover and, at the precise moment, launch an attack that will wipe out the Hellhounds' leaders out of existence! And should everything go to plan, this operation will then cremate M as a major player in the crime syndicate war of Arges X!

Naturally, Deacon had his doubts as to whether M could pull of such a stunt. This plan was the oldest trick in the book (and just the type of thing one would expect from House Delaque) and, if anything, the Hellhounds certainly would be up to it. Nevertheless, he kept his mouth shut – after all he was being paid quite handsomely for this job.

However what M was careful not the mention was that they were such newcomers to crime syndicate wars of Arges X that the Hellhounds weren't even aware of their existence, let alone be intense rivals of each other……..

On the night of the meeting, the leaders of the Hellhounds and M met at the pre-arranged location – it was an abandoned warehouse, one of many, in one of the more disused areas of Arges X (of course being on a planet in the grip of a never-ending crime war, this may not have been the first time that the warehouse in question was used for such a purpose). The leaders of M awaited the arrival of the Hellhounds whilst Deacon waited with the rest of the group within the confines of the shadows.

The actual details of the incident are sketchy to say the least (I guess the sod who typed out the prison records wasn't there to provide an accurate eyewitness account) but it seemed that the Hellhounds were too smart for M: obviously realising the lack of authenticity in the fledging crime syndicate's intentions of making a mark in Arges X, not to mention the fact that M were part of the already suspicious House Delaque, they instead sent another hired gun to deal with the misguided fools.

I guess being on a planet dominated by a never-ending war between rival crime syndicates also means there is also a seemingly never ending supply of hired goons to rub certain people out…..

Anyway, according to the prison record, the hired in gun in question was a meat-axe from Necromunda by the name of Grinder. And apparently, he was strong, and capable, enough to really bring down M completely.

Again, what actually happened in that warehouse was never made clear within the record itself but when the Watchman burst into the warehouse, no doubt being led there by an anonymous tip-off from the Hellhounds, they found all the members of M butchered. Not one of the aspiring crime syndicate was left alive. After a thorough search of the warehouse Deacon was found. He was the last survivor but he was at death's door due to an enormous wound to the head.

Exactly what had happened in that warehouse was never made clear – but what mattered was that there was not one scrap of evidence in the warehouse that indicated that the Hellhounds had masterminded the massacre of M. The only one who would ever know was Deacon.

He did receive the necessary medical attention to save his life. But once that was done he then found himself imprisoned for his dealings with the various crime syndicates on Arges X. This incarceration didn't last too long however because he was eventually rescued by a break-in.

Obviously his skills were in as a greater demand as ever.

However the incident within the warehouse had turned his whole world upside down. The brain damage from the wound made everything difficult for Deacon's life as a hired gun. Now, his motivations became less about the money and survival – now they were more about the heat of battle. As such, Deacon started growing very selective about what tasks he was offered. Now, he seemed more interested in accepting missions that involved him killing a large number of enemies. Why, there were some instances of Deacon accepting a mission only to be disgusted by the small number of people he killed along the way – This resulted in either refusing the pay or killing his employer.

This change in motivation was certainly unexpected and certainly put a small number of Deacon's contacts off from hiring him again. As such, Deacon found the demand for his skills shrinking and times when he didn't have anything to do. Familiar faces turned away and previously well-paying employers shunned contact. Not surprisingly, the Hellhounds, knowing all too well of Deacon's reputation and his past dealings, kept their distance.

Also, this change in behaviour also meant he grew careless. Previously, Deacon was well aware of the enemies he had made in his time spent as a hired gun - so he went to the effort of covering his tracks and making it near-impossible for anyone to catch him. Consequentially, many of his enemies were left guessing and Deacon had a greater awareness of self-preservation. But now, thanks to the accident, he had grown more careless. He didn't go to the same extent of concealing his actions as he did previously – and other times, he had just gotten sloppy.

Therefore, it was only a matter of time before someone sold him out.

And that's exactly what happened.

Considering at that point in time Deacon's career as a hired gun was already going downhill, it wouldn't have taken much for it to be brought to an abrupt halt. That moment eventually came when was Deacon assigned by a crime syndicate in ambushing a group from a rival syndicate. According to the testimonial on the database the syndicate in question were a group of Escher known as the Girls of Carnage and they had employed Deacon previously on many successful missions. However, at that time they had a tough assignment that needed completion so, perhaps out of desperation, they offered it to Deacon. Perhaps seeing a chance to get some money and regaining some credibility, he accepted.

With this latest assignment, it was his task to provide covering fire whilst his employers moved in to swipe a parcel from under the noses of a rival Ash Nomad gang, the Brotherhood of Panthers.

It was a simple task of easy completion but it was not to be.

Because of it's importance, the parcel was hidden in not the metropolitan area. No it was hidden in amongst the wastelands. Of course since no had been there before, this was a mission for either the utterly brave or the completely insane. Deacon however didn't seem too bothered and insisted on seeing it through.

So, Deacon and some of the Girls of Carnage went ahead- after sneaking out of the protective walls of the metropolitan area (even if Arges X was a planet dominated by crime wars, the one law that did remain was no one was allowed out. Not that anyone wanted to do that anyway) and headed for a particular location within the wastelands.

It was a cluster of abandoned houses, each one being crude in appearance and looking like they had been made out of mud-brick and other such primitive materials. It was anyone's guess as to who made these buildings and how long they had been there for.

Anyway, the parcel was located within one of these buildings. The only question was which one…..

Of such a determination wasn't going to be easy: As soon as Deacon and his group entered the cluster, they were greeted with a full blast of lasgun fire. Quickly, the women sought shelter.

It didn't take a Tech-Priest of Mars to find out that it was set-up: Suddenly the fact that this package was so well-hidden within a particular location of the vast wastelands now stunk like Nurgle Plague Marine. Nevertheless, when faced with such hailstorm of lasgun fire, Deacon and his group decided to go out fighting.

Sensing the heat of battle, Deacon then heeded the call of his new-found battle lust. He then leapt out from hiding, guns blazing in both hands. He didn't wasn't too interested in survival or whether or not he actually hit anything. What mattered was the heat of the battle, the rush of adrenalin and the sheer pleasure of gunning down some worthless piece of trash that was dumb enough to stand in his way.

As a result, he was left standing, firing at the enemy from behind cover. The only thing is, there was no enemy: All that he could see was blinded by smoke and his battle-lust. As a result, several of the Goliath gangers he was firing at had all disappeared from view, leaving Deacon firing off shells in a random fashion.

This time however, he was caught (unsurprising really) and taken to the Enforcers. And being a repeat offender, this time action was taken and Deacon was deported off world, on a one-way trip to the Penal Legion.

I can certainly say that the document was interesting reading – The Deacon described in that conflict sounds very much like the Deacon we know here on this miserable rock. But what bothers me is that the Deacon who gave the testimony does not sound like the aloof, ruthless Deacon that I have come to know.

The document certainly told me what he had done prior to his arrival here but not entirely his reason. I mean, I can see something behind his trigger-happy outlook as well as his strong perceptions of treachery (which admittedly is kind of odd considering it's from a former hired gun).

But still, it makes me wonder what he's hiding in that head of his…….


	8. Theta

**Title:** Angelus Erroneous: Fabricati Diem

**Author**: Spike

**Chapter:** Eight

Hours later, the six of us continued on our journey across the planet (not that we had anywhere to go).

We had packed up the camp and carried on across the mountain we had settled upon – It seems that this mountain was part of a rather large range so Bishop decided to mount an exploration across it, in the hope (however misguided) of finding something.

So far, the journey had been a very tense affair: Bishop led the way, his senses alert to any sign of danger. Naturally, these senses would be looking for Orks but, at the same time, they seemed unaware of what was really happening behind his back.

Laertes followed our esteemed leader. He has since come around since being knocked out and he seemed to have regained his senses.

For now.

Funny thing is, he can't seem to recall that earlier this morning he was battling monster Orks, and suspecting the trace of heresy within the companions he is currently travelling with. Instead he seems quite intent to journey with us, not being bothered at all by the concept of 'his allies' doing anything he deems 'unfit' in his eyes.

Perhaps we should consider ourselves fortunate……

Jessie followed the priest whilst myself and Xerxes came after. I couldn't see Jessie's face but it didn't seem too hard to determine just what she was thinking.

The outcome of the dispute from this morning, had not really given her the result she desired. As she had lost out in the democratically-determined decision, she had returned to her sullen mood. Of course, her vote didn't really amount to anything and the only other supporter of her cause was unconscious at the time but it was obvious that she was still unhappy with the result.

Although describing her as 'unhappy' was only putting it lightly.

Who the hell still uses such a thing as democracy within the Imperium anyway?! Anyway, being on the losing side, it was obvious that Jessie holds both myself and Xerxes responsible (of course, Bishop also supported leaving but who the hell was the guts, or more accurately the stupidity, to take Bishop on?). This, in turn, brought a dramatic increase onto the chances of Jessie attacking both myself and Xerxes.

Earlier this morning I was concerned with the thought of Deacon reaping such a sadistic pleasure from combat that he may find bloodshed within the rest of us (myself in particular). However the same thing could be easily applied to Jessie – how long will it take before the thrill she finds in combat compels her to attack her allies?

Not a lot it would seem.

It's kind of strange seeing Jessie like this: considering she was the closest I'll ever get to finding a reliable ally on this miserable rock. But what happens when your best ally suddenly gets sick of you?

But should she lash out, I just hope she goes for Xerxes first.

Of course, Jessie kept her back to us both and her gaze hidden. But such a move only betrayed her outrage and the seemingly inevitable consequences.

But it wasn't just Jessie I was concerned about – the greater concern was directly behind me.

Deacon brought up the rear of the party. His hands clutched his heavy stubber with absolute affection, his ruthless gaze escaped nothing and he certainly looked well-prepared for any assaults the Orks may attempt.

But he also looked ready to slug a heavy stubber shell into the back of my forehead.

This in turn, brought my mind into state of absolute paranoia. This certainly wasn't the best place to be and any normal person would've got out of there quick smart.

However, these allies I travel with are human and without them I would already be dead on this miserable rock. Besides, the tensions mean that I am more prepared to deal with any ambushes along this route – hey, can't afford to be relaxed when you're fighting for your life on a daily basis.

But that wasn't what bothered me from a more probable reason to the presence of the gunner standing behind me. The problem there was that he was in the perfect position to get back at me. He had the greatest opportunity to get rid of me simply by shooting me in the back.

(Personally I would rather have Jessie kill me than Deacon. Sure, being torn apart limb for limb sounds hardly appealing but it sounds more clean and swift than compared to being repeatedly blasted with a heavy stubber. Besides, as a killer, at least Jessie would provide a more pleasing sight than Deacon's sheer ugliness)

Of course, knowing Deacon, he could kill me and find an excuse to justify his actions – any excuse would for one is as good as any other. The problem there with that plan was that it would be an absurd idea to kill me right now – when everyone else is present. Therefore, if he wants to try something he would have to do it when no one's looking and make sure he covers his tracks very carefully. Yet, at the same time, there were various elements that currently worked in Deacon's favour: Should he kill me, Jessie wouldn't care, Laertes, in true fanatical fashion, wouldn't be deterred by any casualties falling beside him in his mission to burn every heretic he could find, and Bishop could be easily convinced when given the right circumstances.

The problem that stood in Deacon's way was Xerxes.

The former Rogue Trader walked alongside me – thus making himself into a position of being an unwitting liability. If Deacon has to get rid of me, he would also have to get rid of Xerxes - and then questions will be asked which would not place Deacon in a favourable position.

I would laugh at this notion – the opportunity for Deacon is right in front of him for the taking but his unable to do anything about it!

I would – but I don't want to provoke the lunatic…..

But even for all the danger he posed, Deacon wasn't the greatest of my concerns.

No, my mind was currently on Xerxes.

Ever since we started this journey, he hasn't really been his usual self: He hasn't said anything since this trip began, his facial expression has been continually pensive and his brow has been furrowed. This certainly was unusual for the Rogue Trader - usually he would normally keep up with his constant flow of witty remarks. Needless to say, hearing him be quiet certainly was a cause of concern.

"Xerxes?" I asked.

"Yes?" he replied.

I was surprised. After so long in silence reply was certainly unexpected - but it was enough to build upon.

"You all right there?"

It wasn't the best choice of words for maintaining a conversation but it was better than nothing.

But it was enough to get a reply:

"Yes"

"You sure?"

"Absolutely" he said.

Xerxes' words may have been the type that disdains the need for concern but the voice was certainly growing in discomfort.

His mouth once again fell silent and his pace quickened. He went several steps ahead of me, taking his willingness to communicate with him.

I blinked – I was never used to seeing the Rogue Trader like this. Only once before did he show any type of emotion that was one par with this current mood. Usually, he was his cheerful, optimistic self – so seeing him now like this was indeed unusual enough to be disarming.

I had never really bothered to question what was on his mind previously but now was a time worthy of making an exception.

Suddenly, I felt the unwelcome sense of a heavy stubber barrel poking me in the back.

"Get moving small fry" uttered a voice I was not particularly keen on hearing.

A small grin made its way across my face (thankfully unnoticed by Deacon) and I continued moving.

I had only taken a few strides before something extraordinary happened

My gaze was stretching lazily down the gravel slope and towards the jungle that lay below.

When suddenly, it happened:

I picked up some sign of movement,

There, in amongst, the trees, I could see the trees move.

It wasn;t just a rustling

No, no way. That's impossible!

Suddenly, I felt the familiar sensation of a Heavy Stubber barrel in the back.

"What is it this time?" Deacon rumbled.

"I just saw something…" I managed to mumble.

"What?" the gunner demanded "More Orks? More of those monsters you're so worried about?"

"No, I'm not so sure…"


	9. Iota

**Title:** Angelus Erroneous: Fabricati Diem

**Author**: Spike

**Chapter:** Nine

And so we journeyed on - through the mountain range that Bishop was keen on exploring. We walked in silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts but still wary for any type of ambush.

But it wasn't the prospect of an Ork attack that had me worried. Jessie was still walking ahead of Xerxes and myself, still keeping her back to both of us. She hadn't spoken a word since the journey began and she never once broke her vision from what was up ahead. No doubt the bitterness was still seething….

Along with the possibility that she may try to turn against us…..

And behind us still marched the ever present threat of Deacon. The homicidal lunatic with that all-powerful heavy stubber. Still, at least he was more talkative – even though all he said was a mixture of sarcasm, intimidation and threats to kill us.

So far, the morning had proven to be quite unspectacular – we had not been bothered by the Orks at all. Surprising yes, but more so considering the monster Orks I had encountered earlier that morning.

What is also off-putting is the fact that, for the first time in a long time, we were walking out of the jungle and into the open! Considering we were in a position to be easily spotted, it was any wonder why the Orks hadn't spotted us yet.

As we journeyed across the mountain, I kept a wary eye on the jungle that lay at the bottom of the range itself. Chances are, there could be some Orcs lurking there and I certainly don't want to take any….

Wait a minute.

What was that?

I stopped dead in my tracks, my gaze focusing on the jungle below. I could've sworn that I saw something…..

"What's the matter?" Xerxes asked. "Narc? Something wrong?"

"I saw something down there" I muttered.

"What?" the Rogue Trader replied "Is it more Orks?!"

Although I couldn't see his face, I could still sense some urgency about him - evident in his voice and the mistakable click of his lasgun being readied.

"Where?" he inquired.

"Down there" I said, pointing. "In amongst those trees"

Just then I heard a pair of heavy feet approach.

"What's going on here?" growled a voice that could only belong to Deacon.

"Narc claims he's seen something" Xerxes replied.

"What is it?" Deacon rumbled, his voice suspicious.

"I saw something" I mused "something metallic….

"Metallic?" Deacon muttered "Here? That's absurd!"

"Hold on" Xerxes replied, his voice in a reasoning tone and his eyes squinting at the trees. "He could have a point – there could be some Orks lurking nearby"

"If there are then I would more than happy to introduce them to my stubber!!"

I said nothing – my attention being invested fully into my gaze focusing on the jungle below. I swear I saw something….

But concentration doesn't come easy when there's a full range of voices going on at once:

"What are you looking for, old man?" Xerxes inquired.

"You better not be having me on, small fry!" Deacon rumbled.

"What's going on back there?" came a voice that sounded like Laertes "I'm hearing shouting."

"Narc claims to have found something!" the Rogue Trader replied.

"What is it?" said Jessie.

"I'm not sure – he won't tell us!"

"Then why bother?" Jessie replied.

But regardless of what my companions were saying, I paid little attention for I was trying to locate my little discovery.

"Which was right about….. there!"

And with a jab of my finger, I pointed towards the jungle.

There, in amongst the foliage was a small, but still quite visible, glint of silver.

"Where?" Xerxes demanded.

"There!" I exclaimed. "I saw something metallic! In amongst those trees!"

"I can't see a damn thing…." Deacon muttered.

Muttering some sort of curse under his breath, Xerxes reached into belt and pulled a small cylinder-shaped object. With a flick his wrist, the cylinder immediately expanded into the shape of telescope.

When it came to viewing things from a distance, this telescope was the only item we had for such a purpose. It is a primitive object in this day and age (my days in the Imperial Guard taught me the importance of having viewing goggles) but it gets the job done. Emperor only knows why he keeps that thing – he claims it is a prized relic from his days as a Rogue Trader.

But I know better and can deduce easily that he stole it from somewhere.

After all, who would use a telescope in the middle of space, anyway?!

Anyway, Xerxes began looking towards the area with his telescope, his facial expression one of scepticism.

But it didn't take long before he caught sight of something. And his expression softened into one of disbelief.

"I don't believe it" he muttered.

"What is it?" I asked.

"See for yourself" Xerxes murmured, handing the telescope to me.

I then stared down the shaft, wondering what was this object I had discovered and why it freaked out the Rogue Trader.

It didn't take me long to find out what it was.

There, nestled in amongst the foliage and well hidden from normal eyes was a ship.

But not just any ship – it was one made with a distinct metal, a design that betrayed a circular shape and a distinctive manufacture that betrayed neither Ork nor human origin.

"An Eldar ship" I murmured, lowering the telescope and handing it to Deacon "What the hell would a thing like that be doing here?!"

Xerxes however smiled an intrigued smile.

"I must admit you've certainly picked up on an amazing find here old man" he beamed. "In the terms of scavenging I think we've hit upon an absolute gold mine!"

Just then I noticed Laertes, Bishop and Jessie come hurrying over.

"What's going on here?" Our Fearless Leader demanded.

"I believe that our man Narc here, has made the discovery of the century" Xerxes grinned "He's discovered what seems to be an Eldar ship!"

"What?" Jessie exclaimed.

"You can't be serious!" Bishop sneered.

"See for yourself" Deacon rumbled, handing the telescope to Our Fearless Leader.

Bishop took the telescope and peered through it.

"You gotta be kidding" Jessie muttered "What the hell would an Eldar ship doing here in this neglected side of the galaxy?"

"Well you have hand it to him" the Rogue Trader beamed. "He's certainly found something we can salvage! And from the looks of it, it's been there for a while!"

I mentally cursed – Sure I had a strong connection with Xerxes but the way he carries on like this is certainly frustrating on my part. So what if I found the damn thing?! The least he could do was not make such a big thing of it.

"This sounds like utter bullshit to me" Jessie retorted "There can't be such a thing there!"

"Take a look at your bullshit for yourself" Bishop growled, handing her the telescope.

As Jessie looked through the telescope, Our Fearless Leader turned to the rest of us.

"So what are we going to do about that thing then?"

"I say we should salvage it!" Xerxes said. "If it's been there for a while then chances are, the Orks either haven't paid much attention to it or they don't know that it's there! Either way, we have an opportunity here too good to miss!"

"I agree" Deacon said. "I too would like the firepower that may be in that thing"

"Same here' I added. "If there is anything in there, we can always rely on Xerxes' knowledge of the galaxy to identify it. Isn't that right?"

Xerxes laughed – but it was one that was tainted with utter nervousness.

"I don't think we should investigate!" Laertes said suddenly "We should just leave it there! It's an alien spacecraft and all aliens are abominations that pollute the Emperor's galaxy!"

I don't know what type of reaction Laertes was expecting with this speech – but I doubt he was expecting a wall of silence.

"And?" Bishop eventually growled.

The priest's facial expression then grew into one of complete exasperation.

"We are the servants of the Emperor!" he snapped "We must abide to His will and conquer the galaxy that has been granted to all of humanity as our birthright! So what type of servants would dare commit such an act of heresy by touching the creations of an inferior race?!"

"You forget" Bishop replied, somehow managing to keep a cool head regardless of being shouted upon "We aren't the servants the Emperor – we're just a group of outlaws and desperadoes trying to scrape out some kind of survival. And in this game there are no rules"

You had to admire Our Fearless Leader. He really had the presence, and the rate of intimidation, that made one shut up quick smart.

"But…." The priest began

Unfortunately for him, he wasn't given the chance to finish. Convinced that the argument had been won, Bishop turned to rest of us.

"I say we go check this thing out" he said "Who's with me?"

He then started down the slope. Deacon went after him followed by Xerxes.

Understandably irate with the fact that he wasn't being taken seriously, Laertes turned to both myself and Jessie.

"If you go down there and dare abide to the creations of a hated alien race then I shall consider it my duty to purify you!" he scolded

Jessie looked at him with a hardened gaze.

"Then perhaps I shouldn't go down there" Jessie retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm "Don't really want to interfere with your good work for the galaxy"

She then turned and headed down the slope with everyone else.

Laertes then turned an infuriated gaze towards the last person left:

Me.

But before he could open his mouth, I merely shrugged and made my way down the slope.

'You will all go to hell for this!" I heard him yell after me.

I just continued on my way – Sure he may declare such threats but he has never been able to seem as intimidating. Yes, he may have said that he would fry us in the 'purifying flames' of his flamer but he has never really made much of an effort to fulfil that promise.

Therefore, as far as we're all concerned he's pretty much harmless.

Okay it may be a big ask being so trustworthy will such a lunatic but personally he's no different from the rest of us.

Besides, what difference does it make when you're too busy watching your back from everyone else?


	10. Kappa

**Title:** Angelus Erroneous: Fabricati Diem

**Author**: Spike

**Chapter:** Ten

And so we journeyed on - through the mountain range that Bishop was keen on exploring. We walked in silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts but still wary for any type of ambush.

But it wasn't the prospect of an Ork attack that had me worried. Jessie was still walking ahead of Xerxes and myself, still keeping her back to both of us. She hadn't spoken a word since the journey began and she never once broke her vision from what was up ahead. No doubt the bitterness was still seething….

Along with the possibility that she may try to turn against us…..

And behind us still marched the ever present threat of Deacon. The homicidal lunatic with that all-powerful heavy stubber. Still, at least he was more talkative – even though all he said was a mixture of sarcasm, intimidation and threats to kill us.

So far, the morning had proven to be quite unspectacular – we had not been bothered by the Orks at all. Surprising yes, but more so considering the monster Orks I had encountered earlier that morning.

What is also off-putting is the fact that, for the first time in a long time, we were walking out of the jungle and into the open! Considering we were in a position to be easily spotted, it was any wonder why the Orks hadn't spotted us yet.

As we journeyed across the mountain, I kept a wary eye on the jungle that lay at the bottom of the range itself. Chances are, there could be some Orcs lurking there and I certainly don't want to take any….

Wait a minute.

What was that?

I stopped dead in my tracks, my gaze focusing on the jungle below. I could've sworn that I saw something…..

"What's the matter?" Xerxes asked. "Narc? Something wrong?"

"I saw something down there" I muttered.

"What?" the Rogue Trader replied "Is it more Orks?!"

Although I couldn't see his face, I could still sense some urgency about him - evident in his voice and the mistakable click of his lasgun being readied.

"Where?" he inquired.

"Down there" I said, pointing. "In amongst those trees"

Just then I heard a pair of heavy feet approach.

"What's going on here?" growled a voice that could only belong to Deacon.

"Narc claims he's seen something" Xerxes replied.

"What is it?" Deacon rumbled, his voice suspicious.

"I saw something" I mused "something metallic….

"Metallic?" Deacon muttered "Here? That's absurd!"

"Hold on" Xerxes replied, his voice in a reasoning tone and his eyes squinting at the trees. "He could have a point – there could be some Orks lurking nearby"

"If there are then I would more than happy to introduce them to my stubber!!"

I said nothing – my attention being invested fully into my gaze focusing on the jungle below. I swear I saw something….

But concentration doesn't come easy when there's a full range of voices going on at once:

"What are you looking for, old man?" Xerxes inquired.

"You better not be having me on, small fry!" Deacon rumbled.

"What's going on back there?" came a voice that sounded like Laertes "I'm hearing shouting."

"Narc claims to have found something!" the Rogue Trader replied.

"What is it?" said Jessie.

"I'm not sure – he won't tell us!"

"Then why bother?" Jessie replied.

But regardless of what my companions were saying, I paid little attention for I was trying to locate my little discovery.

"Which was right about….. there!"

And with a jab of my finger, I pointed towards the jungle.

There, in amongst the foliage was a small, but still quite visible, glint of silver.

"Where?" Xerxes demanded.

"There!" I exclaimed. "I saw something metallic! In amongst those trees!"

"I can't see a damn thing…." Deacon muttered.

Muttering some sort of curse under his breath, Xerxes reached into belt and pulled a small cylinder-shaped object. With a flick his wrist, the cylinder immediately expanded into the shape of telescope.

When it came to viewing things from a distance, this telescope was the only item we had for such a purpose. It is a primitive object in this day and age (my days in the Imperial Guard taught me the importance of having viewing goggles) but it gets the job done. Emperor only knows why he keeps that thing – he claims it is a prized relic from his days as a Rogue Trader.

But I know better and can deduce easily that he stole it from somewhere.

After all, who would use a telescope in the middle of space, anyway?!

Anyway, Xerxes began looking towards the area with his telescope, his facial expression one of scepticism.

But it didn't take long before he caught sight of something. And his expression softened into one of disbelief.

"I don't believe it" he muttered.

"What is it?" I asked.

"See for yourself" Xerxes murmured, handing the telescope to me.

I then stared down the shaft, wondering what was this object I had discovered and why it freaked out the Rogue Trader.

It didn't take me long to find out what it was.

There, nestled in amongst the foliage and well hidden from normal eyes was a ship.

But not just any ship – it was one made with a distinct metal, a design that betrayed a circular shape and a distinctive manufacture that betrayed neither Ork nor human origin.

"An Eldar ship" I murmured, lowering the telescope and handing it to Deacon "What the hell would a thing like that be doing here?!"

Xerxes however smiled an intrigued smile.

"I must admit you've certainly picked up on an amazing find here old man" he beamed. "In the terms of scavenging I think we've hit upon an absolute gold mine!"

Just then I noticed Laertes, Bishop and Jessie come hurrying over.

"What's going on here?" Our Fearless Leader demanded.

"I believe that our man Narc here, has made the discovery of the century" Xerxes grinned "He's discovered what seems to be an Eldar ship!"

"What?" Jessie exclaimed.

"You can't be serious!" Bishop sneered.

"See for yourself" Deacon rumbled, handing the telescope to Our Fearless Leader.

Bishop took the telescope and peered through it.

"You gotta be kidding" Jessie muttered "What the hell would an Eldar ship doing here in this neglected side of the galaxy?"

"Well you have hand it to him" the Rogue Trader beamed. "He's certainly found something we can salvage! And from the looks of it, it's been there for a while!"

I mentally cursed – Sure I had a strong connection with Xerxes but the way he carries on like this is certainly frustrating on my part. So what if I found the damn thing?! The least he could do was not make such a big thing of it.

"This sounds like utter bullshit to me" Jessie retorted "There can't be such a thing there!"

"Take a look at your bullshit for yourself" Bishop growled, handing her the telescope.

As Jessie looked through the telescope, Our Fearless Leader turned to the rest of us.

"So what are we going to do about that thing then?"

"I say we should salvage it!" Xerxes said. "If it's been there for a while then chances are, the Orks either haven't paid much attention to it or they don't know that it's there! Either way, we have an opportunity here too good to miss!"

"I agree" Deacon said. "I too would like the firepower that may be in that thing"

"Same here' I added. "If there is anything in there, we can always rely on Xerxes' knowledge of the galaxy to identify it. Isn't that right?"

Xerxes laughed – but it was one that was tainted with utter nervousness.

"I don't think we should investigate!" Laertes said suddenly "We should just leave it there! It's an alien spacecraft and all aliens are abominations that pollute the Emperor's galaxy!"

I don't know what type of reaction Laertes was expecting with this speech – but I doubt he was expecting a wall of silence.

"And?" Bishop eventually growled.

The priest's facial expression then grew into one of complete exasperation.

"We are the servants of the Emperor!" he snapped "We must abide to His will and conquer the galaxy that has been granted to all of humanity as our birthright! So what type of servants would dare commit such an act of heresy by touching the creations of an inferior race?!"

"You forget" Bishop replied, somehow managing to keep a cool head regardless of being shouted upon "We aren't the servants the Emperor – we're just a group of outlaws and desperadoes trying to scrape out some kind of survival. And in this game there are no rules"

You had to admire Our Fearless Leader. He really had the presence, and the rate of intimidation, that made one shut up quick smart.

"But…." The priest began

Unfortunately for him, he wasn't given the chance to finish. Convinced that the argument had been won, Bishop turned to rest of us.

"I say we go check this thing out" he said "Who's with me?"

He then started down the slope. Deacon went after him followed by Xerxes.

Understandably irate with the fact that he wasn't being taken seriously, Laertes turned to both myself and Jessie.

"If you go down there and dare abide to the creations of a hated alien race then I shall consider it my duty to purify you!" he scolded

Jessie looked at him with a hardened gaze.

"Then perhaps I shouldn't go down there" Jessie retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm "Don't really want to interfere with your good work for the galaxy"

She then turned and headed down the slope with everyone else.

Laertes then turned an infuriated gaze towards the last person left:

Me.

But before he could open his mouth, I merely shrugged and made my way down the slope.

'You will all go to hell for this!" I heard him yell after me.

I just continued on my way – Sure he may declare such threats but he has never been able to seem as intimidating. Yes, he may have said that he would fry us in the 'purifying flames' of his flamer but he has never really made much of an effort to fulfil that promise.

Therefore, as far as we're all concerned he's pretty much harmless.

Okay it may be a big ask being so trustworthy will such a lunatic but personally he's no different from the rest of us.

Besides, what difference does it make when you're too busy watching your back from everyone else?**Title:** Angelus Erroneous: Fabricati Diem

**Author**: Spike

**Chapter:** Ten

The Eldar craft was one of the vehicles that the Imperial Guard command identified as a Wave Serpent. According to my knowledge of the Eldar, it was a troop carrier.

What this meant for us was, disappointingly, the fact that it didn't really have enough weapons that we could use against the green-skins. Or at least one's that were in clear view - I had seen Elder Wave Serpents and whilst some of them were known for having a heavy weapon built into them, this one didn't.

But despite the lack of proper weapons, what was particularly striking about this Wave Serpent was it had bore the signs of having been here on this planet for a very long time: It lay half buried in the dirt ground covered with foliage and moss. Its protective armour plating was riddled with rust, bullet holes, enormous dents and several scorch marks.

There was no telling how long it been there but it had obviously been here before any of us humans arrived to this miserable rock. And in that time it had been lying here, it this had then been discovered long ago by the Orks who took to it.

Of course, that may explain where the heavy weapons (if any were on the Wave Serpent) disappeared to….

I looked around – There seemed to be no signs of scorch marks on the mountainside. Looking towards the jungle, there seemed to be no signs of a crash landing: no ruined trees, burnt timber or broken trunks. If the Wave Serpent had to make a crash landing, it would've done so long ago. As such, the jungle would've had plenty of time to regrow since.

I looked at my associates – but if facial expressions were anything to go by, none of them seemed to be investing a single thought into how long the Wave Serpent had been situated there. Instead, Bishop was rubbing his hands with glee, looking extremely keen to find anything salvageable from the craft. The rest of the group, however, was a mixture of emotion: Jessie looked interested, Deacon didn't seem to care a single iota and Xerxes looked around nervously.

It was the sight of the Rogue Trader's unease that caught my attention. In the space of sighting the wreck and arriving at it, his facial expression had disintegrated into a state of eagerness to paranoia. It seems that the excitement of this unexpected discovery had given way for a realisation that he would have to deal with a number of questions regarding identifying anything within the Wave Serpent.

Obviously his mind was working on overtime to come up with a range of witty comments that would save him from the embarrassment of trying to identify any alien object that should come his way.

Meanwhile, Laertes was still at the top of the slope. From this distance, he seemed to have taken up a seated position.

Hey, if he wants to sulk then that's fine by me.

And if he doesn't want a cut of the loot we may find in the Wave Serpent then that's even better.

"You think there may be something still in there?" I asked Our Fearless Leader "It looks like it has been a here a long time"

"Well if there is something in there" Bishop grinned with a crack of his knuckles "Then it needs some people like us to go and retrieve it!

"Don't want it falling into the hands of the Orks now, do we?"

This was perhaps Bishop at his most enthusiastic – he just loves being in a position where he can take command and order us around. And, in his eyes, establishing a position where we are all moving even further ahead of the Orks is very pleasing indeed.

"Is this really necessary to bother with this wreck?" Xerxes inquired "I mean this looks like it has been for nearly forever and it's most likely that has already been plundered by the Orks already."

Judging from the tone in his voice, Xerxes wanted to get out of this – no doubt so he can escape any possibility of trying to identify something he doesn't have a hope in hell of recognising.

"So you think this is bad idea eh?" Our Fearless Leader inquired, his voice growing a distinctive edge – the type of edge that is usually associated with the blade of a knife.

He began moving forward towards Xerxes, fixing the Rogue Trader with an intimidating gaze.

Such was not a good move on Xerxes' part – we all relied on Bishop for leadership and guidance so we never thought of questioning any command or situation he delivered.

Also we had better sense than to do such thing because Our Fearless Leader wasn't the type that one would seriously wasn't to mess with.

As such, Jessie, Deacon and I all recognised the signs and all sensed what was heading this way.

Bishop stopped within a foot from the Rogue Trader and proceeded to lean in until his face was inches away from Xerxes' nose.

"Are you trying to tell me that you don't want to do this?"

Beads of perspiration broke out across Xerxes' forehead. And his lips formed into a nervous grin. Such was him being intimidated by Bishop that the Rogue Trader couldn't find the words to speak.

"Let me put it this way" Bishop continued "Being the only humans on this planet, we have to stick together and combine our forces to deal with this hostile environment

"Therefore, you are either with us or you're not. And if you're not, you are no better than the green-skins"

And then, in one swift motion, Our Fearless Leader drew out a long, silver knife – one that had the insignia of the Imperial skull flanked by a pair of wings.

I grew uneasy with what was happening. I looked at Xerxes – now that he had seen the knife being drawn, his expression had disintegrated into one of absolute terror. His grin had vanished entirely and his eyes had grown into a state of absolute panic. His pupils were dating between Bishop and the rest of us- both containing a sense of imploring, wanting someone to stop Our Fearless Leader from doing something horrendous.

I knew I had to intervene but my body refused to heed into any actions delivered from my brain. I looked around – Laertes was still sulking at the top of the slope, and both Jessie and Deacon were watching the conflict unfolding with some sort of interest.

All three of us were thinking the same thing – Bishop was the boss and we were so reliant upon him that none of us felt the need to argue

But in this case - his employing such techniques of intimidation against one of his charges - none of us dared to speak out against him.

However, even if Xerxes' facial expression spoke volumes of absolute fear, I knew him well enough to say that he wasn't the type to let himself be pushed around.

"That's preposterous!" he blurted out "What makes you think I would suddenly turn against you just like?!"

I cast a quick look at Deacon - who returned my gaze with an evil grin.

"So let me get this straight" Bishop snarled "You're now saying that you are with us even when you just told us that you don't want to look into this crashed spaceship because you would rather leave it in the hands of the enemy?"

"I never said anything like that!" the Rogue Trader spluttered.

I could feel myself begin to grow apprehensive – I wasn't liking the sounds of where this was heading.

Something inside me screamed at me, ordering me to intervene and stop this exchange before it collapses into something brutal and bloody.

But neither my legs nor my mind responded to this demand. And neither Deacon nor Jessie dared to make a move, favouring instead to watch this drama unfold.

What we were witnessing at the moment was Bishop at his most angry. And even though we all relied on Bishop for his leadership, we were also willing to follow him out of fear of arguing with him.

As this scene demonstrated perfectly.

With a whirl of mechanics from his bionic arm Bishop, in one swift movement, grabbed the Rogue Trader by the front of his shirt. Our Fearless Leader than proceeded to lift Xerxes a foot off the ground.

Xerxes squirmed free but to no avail. His facial expression had now degenerated into absolute terror of Bishop and an eagerness to escape this situation that spelled out an inescapable doom and the causing of potentially fatal harm.

Neither of which sounded particularly appealing.

"It seems to me" Bishop snarled "That you need a good hard reminder of why we are fighting this war on this planet"

I raised an eyebrow at these words – these words didn't sound like the Bishop I was familiar with.

Nor the words of a charismatic leader that one could rely upon for continuos guidance through a consistently hostile territory.

With his other hand, that was still clutching the knife, Bishop reached up to bring the silver blade to the Rogue Trader's cheek.

Naturally, Xerxes kept his eye on the blade, his expression growing more and more terrified as it grew nearer and nearer.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!?" Xerxes screamed, understandably unappreciative of the blade this close to his flesh.

My expression grew increasingly apprehensive with each passing second of this absurd drama unfolding before me. But even as much as I wanted this insanity to end, my fear for Our Fearless Leader, particularly when he is like this, kept such thoughts in check.

I couldn't speak. I couldn't move. I could only watch

Bishop didn't reply. Instead he, with the slowest of movements, drew his blade into the Rogue Trader's flesh.

The scream of pain from Xerxes suggested the knife had bypassed the flesh.

The sight of crimson blood creeping out above the blade confirmed this fact.

I made no movement whatsoever. I didn't heed the instructions coming from my brain urging me to look away. Nor did I listen to the demands residing within my head insisting that I intervene before it's too late. I merely stood, transfixed by this scene.

"Can you see the blood?" Bishop snapped at Xerxes.

"What the…."

"Answer the question! Can you see the blood?"

"Yes! Yes, I can!"

Naturally Xerxes was utterly frightened. It wasn't so much that he was chewed out by someone who he regarded as a paragon of guidance through an eternal war-zone of a planet – but the paragon in question was spilling the Rogue Trader's blood for reason for reasons seemingly known only to itself.

"What colour is blood?" Bishop snarled.

"What the…?"

"Cease the consistent procrastination and just answer the fucking question!"

"RED!" Xerxes shrieked "The colour of the blood is red!"

"And who in this universe has blood the colour of red huh? Do the Orks have it?"

"No"

"Do the Eldar have it?"

"No"

"Do the Tau have it?"

"No!"

"And do the fucking Tyranids have it?!"

"NO!"

Now this got me thinking – being creatures who consume everything they come across and who are continually evolving, what colour was the Tyranid's blood?

"Who has the red blood in this galaxy?"

"We do!" Xerxes screamed, his voice tainted with both absolute terror and the urgency to escape this ghastly situation

"Repeat that!"

"WE DO!!!"

And with that, Bishop lowered his blade, loosened his grip on the Rogue Trader and stepped back. This immediately sent Xerxes, who now surely must be terrified to the point of entering catatonia, down on his knees.

Pale and shaking Xerxes slowly lifted his hand to brush his recently created wound. The expression on his face seemed to anticipate the prospect of a permanent scar.

But Bishop saw nothing of this, for he turned to address the rest of us.

"Now, does anyone else question the reason as to why we are salvaging this vehicle?"

When no one responded (save the sound of Xerxes' heavy breathing) he continued on regardless.

"Does anyone need reminding why we are using alien technology? Why we are using unfamiliar equipment?

"Because we're on a planet where none of the inhabitants knows that we are here. And considering that were in a jungle environment against a foe that is simple and brutish, this gives us a complete advantage. Furthermore, as this is a constant battle for survival for us we need every advantage we can lay our hands on.

"Does anyone question the use of alien technology now?"

No one answered.

"Good to see I have your complete and unabridged cooperation" Bishop growled "Now here's another question: Considering that we are using every advantage we can find to keep on staying one step ahead of the Orks, does anyone know why we must stay alive?

"We are doing this because we are humans" he continued "And history will always dictate that we humans are always better than any other alien race that dares challenge our existence – wether they match the sophisticated technology of the Eldar or the pure savageness of the Orks"

My gaze went to Xerxes who, if his facial expression was anything to go by, was packing death. I then looked at Jessie, who was trying hard to surpass a chuckle (obviously delighted that it wasn't her getting chewed out), and then Deacon who seemed aloof to the proceedings.

I frowned.

Like me Bishop used to serve within the Imperial Guard. But unlike me, he served as an officer – a Lieutenant. That means he is used to giving orders and a more than suitable candidate to lead this rag-tag group of desperadoes. He has great ideas to use combat situations, he can indeed pack a wallop with that bionic arm of his and he certainly can retain a cool head even when everything is descending into uncontrollable chaos.

But there are times when I wonder about his commanding style. If this instance was anything to go by, he seems quite forceful in getting his point across – even to the point of inflicting pain amongst the people he

However, it made me wonder what type of commander he was when he was in his glory days as an Imperial Guard Lieutenant.

Yet, if anything, it is highly possible that he still believes he's commanding a platoon of soldiers.

And the more I think about this idea, the more it seems disturbingly possible. Further evidence of this comes in his readiness to fight the Orks, his refusal to take any other solution the rest of us may offer (if we're marooned on this miserable rock wouldn't that mean we are in a position to try anything that comes to mind?) and doing whatever it takes to stay one step in front of the green-skins.

All because we were the soldiers of the Emperor and we had to protect it from whatever alien threat that had the balls to take us on.

The environment and the faces may have changed but it would seem that he may see us no better then the grunts he used to bellow at…..


	11. Lambda

**Title:** Angelus Erroneous: Fabricati Diem

**Author**: Spike

**Chapter:** Eleven

For the moment, Bishop seemed satisfied with the thought his lecture has had an inspiring effect on all of us. This was evident in his anger subsiding and the muscles in his face relaxing.

He looked over his shoulder to see Xerxes get to his feet – convinced the Rogue Trader could still be useful (after all, he had only been inflicted with a minor injury) Bishop clasped his fingers and cracked his knuckles.

"All right" he grinned "Let's get to work

Jessie! Narc! Xerxes! Secure the area! Deacon! I want you with me"

Immediately, the three of us darted in three separate directions, to take up positions around the downed Wave Serpent.  
I headed off northwards from the crash site. I had gone several feet before I dived behind the cover of a large tree trunk, my twin bolt pistols in each hand and ready to deal with anything I considered a threat.

After all, we don't want any Orks wandering here and ruining our little discovery now, do we?

I looked back over my shoulder at the rest of my comrades. Both Xerxes and Jessie had taken up similar positions on either side of the crash site – both behind trees some feet away from the craft itself

This was a routine movement- we had the experience of doing this type of thing after raiding many ruined objects such as this.

Jessie had her beloved sword in one hand and a laspistol in the other. Being a specialist in hand to hand combat, it was indeed an infrequent occurrence to see her use the laspistol. Her usual battle tactics was to hunt down the Orks using whatever cover she could find (hardly difficult in a jungle planet such as this) and slice them to pieces with her sword. She used this tactic time and time again and it has never failed her in the past. As such she didn't get much use out of her laspistol – she only had one because Bishop insisted that she need it.

But her preference was the sword and nothing else. At the moment she had her sword raised up next to her face – which she then gently rested the flat edge of the blade across her cheek. She then slowly ran the blade across her cheek, her eyes closed and her mouth deformed with an emotion that suggested pure ecstasy.

I shrugged – this was a ritual she did before combat. For some reason she did this but I could never work what it signified.

But Jessie wasn't my concern – for my gaze then went to Xerxes.

Despite being recently inflicted with an injury, he had taken up his position without any difficulty. He currently leaned, with his back against the tree, his lasgun in hand and his eyes and ears open, ready to deal with any threat that dared come.

Of course, the wound didn't look like much. From I saw of Bishop's handling of the knife, the blade didn't go too deeply into the flesh and it was most likely that the scar may eventually heal within the goodness of time. If it does turn out to leave a scar then at least it would give the Rogue Trader an appearance that was tougher then before.

And besides, having a scar would always give Xerxes a source to base more incredible stories of his 'exploits' around.

But that wasn't the part I was worried about – The expression on his face was peculiar mixture of apprehension, unease and fright. If his face was anything to go by, it seemed that his mind had collapsed into a state of complete shock.

Whilst the damage to his face may have been minimal, the main concern is the effect that altercation between Bishop and himself may have had on Xerxes' mind.

Naturally, it was utterly insane to send him into a combat situation with his mind in such a state. Any solider knows that being in combat such as this would affect his ability to function and may ultimately make him useless in the heat of combat.

It was any wonder why Bishop still thought he was still useful in holding a lasgun let alone aiming it and pulling the trigger.

But then again, it should come to no surprise considering that Our Fearless Leader considers the priority of his orders being followed greater then the priority of his underling's well being.

However being a soldier, I can tell you that a degree of trust has to be established between you and everyone else. After all, you don't want to be stuck in a position of danger and without anyone else to bail you out.

Yet considering that Xerxes' reliability is currently in a state that can only be described as questionable – as such I would need to look out for him as much as I would need to look out for my own skin.

And once again, he has become a liability to me.

Now how many times would that make it? The 89,573,483,903rd time?

Nevertheless, I looked back across to the crashed Wave Serpent itself.

Laertes was still nowhere to be seen so it's fair to say that he is still sulking.

That the moment, however, both Deacon and Bishop were still standing around the crash. Both were holding cylindrical object in their hands.

Being appointed our best weapons expert also gave Deacon the privilege of handling the group's store of explosives. Being of such a short supply, we never used them that much except in cases like this, when we need something large and heavy blown up.

Although being several feet from the crash site, I was still able to pick up on what these two were discussing.

"So care to explain what this?' Bishop was saying, as he held up one of the many cylindrical objects in Deacon's possession.

"It's a standard issue Imperial grenade" came the reply.

"What type?"

"Melta bomb?"

Our Fearless Leader's face immediately grew suspicious.

"Where did you get this?"

What happened next was disarming to say the least – Deacon's face grew wearied with unease.

"I got it…from…….."

Bishop must have guessed what he was thinking for his face immediately grew angry.

"You got it from the Wrath-bringer, didn't you?"

To this, Deacon nodded silently.

Our Fearless Leader groaned his annoyance.

"I had a rule going that we only used that to get off this planet" he said "I didn't recall saying anything about going into it to find something in the way of using something to salvage it."

"I only found it when you arrived here" Deacon replied "I took it from your store when you weren't looking"

If he was still in the Imperial Guard, Bishop most likely would've dealt with such insolence with either a punch to the face or, worse still, a draw of the pistol followed by a bullet to the head (Not the best way to get things done but Bishop has some serious issues with discipline)

But considering that he's one of six humans on this planet, he wouldn't have done that type of thing because he considers them all too valuable to lose.

Even if he does harbour some sort of contempt for such underlings.

"And you've kept it all this time?" Our Fearless Leader asked.

Deacon nodded.

Bishop sighed.

"Well just hand it over and we'll never speak of it again"

My gaze hardened – he's letting the bastard get off scot-free?! This type of thing would never happen should myself, Xerxes, Jessie or Laertes do anything Bishop considered insolent (the mark left upon Xerxes' cheek is proof enough of that).

I guess Bishop considers Deacon, with his muscle, his heavy Stubber and his know-how of arms and armaments the most useful and the most essential member in this group of idiots.

Or most likely he too is wary about the possibility, and the consequences, of getting someone of Deacon's size and strength upset.

Suddenly, both Deacon and Bishop got their feet and sprinted several feet away from the wreck.

"Fire in the Hold!" Our Fearless Leader shouted.

This was his way of ordering us away from any explosion or bomb detonation (God-Emperor knows why he felt it necessary to utter such a dumb phrase).

Seconds later, the crashed Eldar Wave Serpent was rocked by a massive explosion that sent shockwaves through the jungle. Within seconds, the ground rumbled beneath my feet and clouds of both dust and dirt billowed past. The trunks of nearby trees shook, sending leaves tumbling from their boroughs.

I kept my head down, waiting for the noise to die down. Somehow, I also managed to keep my balance and stay on my feet.

I grit my teeth and kept my pistols within a tight grip – any Ork for miles would've seen such an explosion of such magnitude (or at least felt it) and wouldn't stop short of running over to investigate.

Eventually everything settled – all that could be heard was the type smoke that could have only come from scorched metal.

My senses kept on watch, ready to detect any intrusion and well-prepared to take any action necessary……

But even as I kept watch, I could hear two pairs of feet returning to the crash site.

I didn't turn my head but I could tell that Bishop and Deacon were already returning, no doubt quite keen on examining what secrets the Wave Serpent had contained within.

"Well, that certainly was incredible sight" Bishop said – judging by his voice, he seemed to be letting his enthusiasm take over.

This certainly was a rare occurrence – I can't honestly say I know Bishop for his enthusiasm.

What a pity I couldn't see it…..

"Do you think it worked?" Deacon replied in his distinctive rumble.

"Only one way to find out"

"Understood"

This then prompted a growl (on Deacon's part) before being followed up with a grinding of twisted metal.

I shot a quick glance over my shoulder – Deacon was prying open the hatch with an iron rod (he always kept one on him for situations like this).

My gaze hardened. Considering the amount of effort he was putting into it, it made me wonder why Bishop wasn't using his bionic arm to open the hatch. It's not like that would be any trouble whatsoever in using such a piece machinery to overcome such an obstruction.

But then again, Bishop used to be an officer in the Imperial Guard. And if there is one thing any commander understands is the principle of why bother doing anything when you can get some unfortunate bastard to do it for you.

Besides, I suppose it's kind of amusing to see Deacon putting his back into something useful.

Eventually, with squealing of metal, the hatch came free from the body of the ship. Bishop's face adopted an expression of raw, unabridged eagerness. He then looked up from the ship.

"Everyone!" he yelled "Over here! On the double!"

Immediately, myself, Xerxes and Jessie came hurrying over.

Within seconds, we had all assembled at the hatch (apart from Laertes who, as far as I knew, was still sulking). I cast a brief glimpse into the ship from the hatch opening but instead of seeing a sample of the bizarre Eldar technology, I was confronted instead with mass of pitch blackness.

Then, Bishop began issuing orders:

"Deacon! Xerxes! You're with me. Narc! Jessie! Cover our rear"

He then reached for his belt and pulled out a glow-tube. Activating it, he headed into the darkness, followed by Xerxes and Deacon.

This was typical of such a raid: Bishop relied on them both because, as far as he was concerned, they both had the best knowledge of the universe in the group. Deacon for his knowledge of countless weapons and Xerxes for his understanding of alien cultures and objects.

However considering that Xerxes isn't really a Rogue Trader, it was times like these that made me wonder whether or not Bishop was aware of this fact. Experience had taught me that Xerxes was gifted with a tongue that was quite effective at convincing anyone with anything. As such he was able to identify any alien object that Bishop presented him with – But as far as I knew, Xerxes was merely lying his way through such sticky situations. I knew the 'Rogue Trader' enough to say that when presented with such an object he would just make any nonsense up. And considering that he was our 'best expert on alien cultures', it was likely that we would use, say, the navigation system of an Imperial battle cruiser with the misguided belief that it was an explosive.

However it was fortunate that Bishop had enough faith in him to take Xerxes' word as the truth.

Well some may call it faith but I call it gullibility.

Still even if we did use something under the deluded belief that it was an explosive, I guess it would only come as problem should it fail to blow something up.

But for the moment, that idiot Rogue Trader is hardly my concern – instead I have a job to do in the form of watching out of any Orks.

No doubt there may be some already on their way, drawn by that explosion…..


	12. Mu

**Title:** Angelus Erroneous: Fabricati Diem

**Author**: Spike

**Chapter: **Twelve

My ears were on full alert and my two firing fingers were at the ready on the triggers of my bolt pistols. The jungle was silent but deep within the Wave Serpent itself was the muffled sounds of voices saying indecipherable words and objects being shifted around.

If there truly are a horde of Orks on their way, then I'm ready for them.

Yet my eyes were focusing on something different – Instead, they were directed at the only thing that bothered me at this point in time.

Jessie.

There was no telling what she was still thinking of me following from that dispute this morning. Was she still intent on killing me?

I cast a gaze at her – she had her back to me, her gaze focusing on the trees, her sword and her laspistol drawn and ready in each hand.

My brow furrowed. Should I say something? How would she react if I dared open my trap?

With her back to me, she didn't seem at all concerned with my presence. But then again that didn't really provide any indication of what she was thinking.

Although I should be really concentrating upon the possibility of being ambushed by the Orks, my mind was growing increasing concerned with the person I considered a comrade.

I guess this stems from my military days – Back then, it was considered paramount to establish a degree of trust with your fellow grunts. Because in the battlefield there exists a million situations where you have to rely on someone else to help you out.

And here there's not that much difference. Only here the grunts have been replaced by wanted criminals and the worst scum the Imperium could come up with.

But in the terms of appreciation and respect there's not much in the way of difference.

However, even if I little respect for the scum fate has placed me with, there's still no excuse for not at least _trying_ to cooperate with them.

And hey, I would certainly like someone watching my back as much as the next person.

Even if it's someone who's combat style is both relentless and remorseless. And who was quite keen on killing me earlier on.

Besides, the tension in the air was as large, and as heavy, as an Emperor class of Titan. The least I could do was try and eradicate it.

I cleared my throat.

"See anything on your end?"

Okay so it maybe wasn't the best conversation starter in the world but it was better than nothing.

"Nothing as yet" she replied.

I blinked. This was a surprise. I wasn't expecting a reply, let alone that was responded to so promptly.

Might as well make the most of it….

"You think there could be anything in there?"

"Possibly – But I doubt it. It doesn't like it's been disturbed for ages"

"Considering we're on an Ork World I find that very hard to believe…" I muttered.

"I guess the Orks must've found it, raided it and forgotten about it" she replied

I offered myself a round of mental congratulations. Hey she must have stopped being so pissed off with me – She now sees me worthy of being on speaking terms.

I guess it's a start….

"So are you suggesting that there may be still something in there that the Orks overlooked?"

What happened next was something of a surprise - she turned around and faced me.

I blinked – her facial expression didn't look anything resembling anger- it seemed a lot more thoughtful.

And perhaps the most thoughtful I have ever seen Jessie.

"Sure I do" she said.

"The odd for that happening are slim" I muttered "And the odds of finding an overlooked relic that actually _works_ are even slimmer"

Jessie's brow furrowed and she turned away.

"Boy, aren't we feeling cynical today" she growled.

"Funny, I thought I had been like that since I arrived on this miserable rock" I shot back.

"How you can you say that?" she said, turning her gaze back around.

"What?"

"How can you submit to the idea of cynicism when we're on a planet like this?"

"Oh silly me" I snarled sarcastically "I was too busy wallowing in my cynicism that I failed to realise that we are STRANDARD on a planet for beyond the BORDERLINES of Imperial space populated entirely by the ORKS when no-one else knows, let alone cares, that we're here because we're all wanted CRIMINALS ON THE FUCKING RUN!!!!"

Amazingly, Jessie didn't bat an eyelid when confronted with a barrage of ferocious words.

"But don't you see?" she replied "That's precisely the point! We are on this planet and no one knows we're here! As such, we can do whatever we feel like!"

I blinked.

"Being on this planet gives us an opportunity to find a brand new life!" She went on "One that should be made for ourselves without any interference whatsoever from the Imperial authorities!"

I closed my eyes. Oh great – she was beginning to sound like that idiot Xerxes….

"And I for one am certainly carving myself a new life here!"

Once again, Jessie was experiencing what the rest of us referred to as 'one of her moods'. Being unpredictable in both her actions and her words, certainly made her interesting company but there were times when it became particularly problematic. As such, there was this tendency to remain somewhat wary when dealing with her. One minute she could be spouting some random nonsense while the next she could have her knife drawn.

But considering what Jessie was capable of, perhaps her current mood would be better if it were kept that way.

"What?" I inquired "You call day after day of slaying Orks a new life?"

Why not?" she grinned. "I get to do what I want to do, I get a lot of enjoyment out of it and no one can tell me otherwise.

"Besides" she added "It's certainly better than ending up on with one's neck on the executioner's block."

"You gotta point there…." I muttered.

"So what do you intend to do here?" Jessie then asked.

"What are you talking about?"

"Look, no one knows where we are and no cares. It's not like we're going to be rescued anytime soon, right?"

"Well…yeah…"

"Exactly! So we may as well make ourselves make ourselves comfortable!"

"Throwing my own words back at me…" I grumbled.

"If that's true then there's no reason why you should be playing Mr. Cynical" Jessie snapped, her voice accusing.

"Look, I'm just here for the purposes of keeping myself alive" I growled. "There's no way in hell that I would ever let myself die at the hands of those green-skin scum!

"Well that's a start" she grinned.

"Call it what you like"

I guess this the best example of Jessie at her most optimistic – yet another product of her erratic mood swings.

Yet there was no telling how long this cheery outlook would last…..

Of course such an attitude would be, in retrospect, comforting but I'm not in any rush to relax – because there was always the likely we could be ambushed by the Orks.

Or worse, still be torn apart by Jessie in a sudden change in mood.

I guess the least I could do was to keep her talking:

"Anyway" I said "Going back to what you said about the chances of finding something in here that the Orks overlooked

"That's a good theory but that doesn't take in account that there are countless tribes of Orks around here. Sure this thing looks like it's been here for a while but it's in too good condition to be here for so long on a planet like this. So, if one tribe of Orks came through here, more would've followed in their wake"

"So what are you saying?"

"If this wreck hasn't been completely obliterated then only one group of Ork may have discovered it."

"Meaning, we must be in an area which the Orks aren't aware of"

"Maybe the other green-skin tribes haven't discovered it yet?" Jessie theorised.

"It's possible but I doubt it" I replied "I thinking more along the lines that the Orks have been avoiding this area and for good reason"

"You think so?"

"Ah you're just being paranoid" she said.

"Really?"

"For one thing, your theory doesn't explain one thing?"

"Like what?" I retorted.

"Like how that bozo behind you came sneaking up on us!"

With battle instincts instantaneously flaring with alarm, I flicked my head around

There, standing several feet away, stood a huge green-skin. He stood several feet away, glaring at us both.

What happened next happened very quickly.

In a blink of an eye, the Ork exploded – The green-skin was knocked off his feet from the force of several las-bolts. The corpse came crashing down.

I turned back to Jessie. She clutched her laspistol, it's barrel smoking.

This event can only be described as a rare occurrence: Jessie using her laspistol over her sword to dispatch an enemy. But such events can only be used in emergency situations.

And such emergency situations aren't entirely welcome.

Particularly if the scowl across Jessie's face was anything to go by.

"Sure hated to do that" she growled.

I shrugged before hurrying over to where the corpse lay.

The Ork was well and truly dead – he was covered with blood and he was still smoking from the instrument of his untimely demise. His skull and his shoulder muscles had all been penetrated from the las-bolts.

I looked over my shoulder, to see Jessie approach, her facial expression still deformed with a scowl.

"Hey, good shooting" I said casually.

Immediately, her eyes grew angry.

"Not one mention to Bishop or the others about this!"

"Huh?"

"I kill all my enemies with my sword! Not with a damn pistol!"

"But…."

"But nothing!" she snapped "Just promise me you won't say a word about this!"

My muscles tightened. I could sense a possible change in Jessie's mood.

And as I'm quite keen on keeping my own head, perhaps it would be best to not pursue this matter any further……

Being skilled at combat also meant that Jessie had developed something that could only be described as a warriors' pride.

But considering how schizophrenic her moods were, it makes me wonder whether she developed this through countless hours of combat or whether she was copying something she had seen before.

"Fine then" I muttered.

My eyes then scanned the forest behind the downed Ork. No other sign of life seemed to be around. There were no movements, explosions or bolter fire that was usually associated with the presence of Orks.

My eyes hardened. This seemed rather unsettling…..

"I wonder how this one came by, here?' I went on.

"Perhaps he wanted to check out what you described as a place best avoided" Jessie sneered.

"Actually that may not be as unfeasible as you may think" I replied "Look at him – he's on his own."

"So?"

"Correct me if I'm wrong but all these Orks upon this miserable rock travel in groups. Seriously - Have we ever encountered an Ork on their own?"

Jessie blinked, her facial expression close to something to resembling thoughtfulness.

"I don't know about you but something seems terribly out of place here" I muttered.

Then Jessie grinned in a sadistic manner.

I didn't pay any attention to she did next. Instead my gaze travelled upwards, travelling up with surrounding tree trunks on to the forest canopy.

With my mind in state of pondering, words began drifting out of my throat.

"…First, we enter this part of the planet that seems unusually quiet when compared to the other areas on this miserable rock. Second, we encounter a downed Wave Serpent and then a single Ork comes seemingly out of nowhere without any other sign of greenskin.

Something seemed terribly amiss here…..

Something that screamed out good enough reason for both myself and Jessie to have our wits about us.

I turned around, my mouth open…

But the sight that then confronted me was something I wasn't expecting.

Jessie had her sword drawn and was using it to slowly carve through the green-skin's neck.

I blinked as she then pulled off the freshly severed head and, with a fistful of green flesh, pulled it up into a view with a sadistic grin on her face.

"Hey Narc, look" she said proudly. "Look at my little souvenir: The only Ork on his own that we had ever encountered on this planet!"

I sighed.

Having seen no further interest in the Ork's corpse, both myself and Jessie headed back to the open hatch of the Wave Serpent.

Along the way, we were greeted with the sight of Deacon poking his ugly head out of the wreck.

"Hey there" he grunted "We've found something"

Both Jessie and myself exchanged glances and hurried over.

"Yeah?" Jessie asked "What?"

"We found several weapons and quite a few artefacts as well"

"Artefacts?" I echoed, my suspicions arising. "What type of artefacts?"

Deacon shrugged.

"Don't know" he muttered "I'm just relying on what Xerxes said. I hope he knows what each of these devices does."

Which, in Xerxes' case, seems highly unlikely.

"He called one of them a…. communications device"

Jessie raised an eyebrow but I mentally cursed. What type of nonsense did Xerxes come up with this time? Emperor knows how Bishop can keep swallowing the crap that the 'Rogue Trader' keeps feeding him.

It's also debatable on how much longer the Rogue Trader can keep his lies from unravelling.

Still, such theorising also came with a sense of comfort: it should be amusing to see what this device does when Bishop tries to use it. No doubt something completely different..…

That thought alone pacified the anger I had for the Rogue Trader's constant lies and filled my head with such potentially amusing possibilities (okay so maybe Xerxes won't find them funny but since when have I ever placed his benefit before my own?).

As well as a wellspring of devious possibilities as to how everyone will react to this piece of unwelcome news.

Just then, Deacon stepped out from the Wave Serpent. Close behind came both Our Fearless Leader and the Rogue Trader. Bishop had two pieces of Eldar equipment in his hands. One seemed to resemble a firearm of some kind. Despite its all too-alien origins, it seemed to possess the same shape as a lasgun.

But then again just because it looks like a lasgun doesn't mean it really is.

Meanwhile the other was a much smaller object. It was oval shaped and was large enough to fit in the palm of Our Fearless Leader's hand.

Xerxes followed Bishop, also carrying a number of objects that also bore the signs of the unique Eldar craftsmanship. Being of an alien construct these objects didn't seem to resemble anything I was already familiar with.

It was anyone's guess as to what Xerxes told Bishop these objects were.

And it should be interesting as to what would happen when our Fearless Leader tries to use them.

But whilst that prospect has a certain degree of amusement value, there's always the question of what Bishop would do when he realises that Xerxes has deceived him….

Seriously, Our Fearless Leader wasn't the type who took deception, cheek and unreliability lightly. Being a former CO in the Imperial Guard, I guess that's natural but the time away does nothing to stop the application of brutality towards his charges.

I cleared my throat

"What did you found in there, boss?" I inquired.

Bishop grinned evilly and immediately raised up the weapon that resembled a lasgun.

"I think we've struck gold here" he said.

"Does it still work?"

Our Fearless Leader didn't reply. Instead he, in one swift motion, flipped the gun around in his hand and aimed it out to his left. Without even bothering to look down the barrel, he pulled on something that resembled the firing trigger.

A burst of lasgun bolts erupted from the firearm, only to travel through the air and thunder their way into a nearby tree.

The rest of us blinked in stunned silence as Bishop turned and noted the fresh scar marks at the tree trunk.

He merely shrugged.

"Yeah, it still works" he said nonchalantly.

The rest of us exchanged bewildered glances.

"And what is this?" Jessie asked, eyeing the strange device that Bishop held in his other hand.

"Xerxes told me that it's some sort of explosive – An Eldar-crafted grenade."

_I bet he did_ I thought to myself

"So where's this communications device I've been told about?" I then demanded.

I cast an eye at Xerxes who turned away.

"He's got it" Bishop said.

I glared daggers at the Rogue Trader. He however kept his gaze hidden from the rest of us.

I could sense the corner of my lip twitch into an amused curl.

_Your time spent weaving your lies is slowly running out_ I thought

Our Fearless Leader then turned to both Jessie and me.

"Did you see anything out here?" he demanded.

I exchanged glances with Jessie.

And what I saw brought me to a point of ill-ease.

Her facial expression had undergone a bizarre metamorphosis since the slaying of the Ork. Jessie's face had grown laden with melancholy. At the moment, her thrill of the combat had disintegrated with the absence of the Ork. And with no more reliance on the one thing she enjoyed out of this life currently absent, she had reverted into a more mellow state of mind.

Of course this may seem good for me as it places me in a position of comfort - after all, it's highly unlikely she would draw her blade in me when she's like this, right?

Wrong. Even whilst she currently seemed unhappy, I did see something in her face – It came in the form of small lines of fear. Fear for Bishop.

A fear strong enough to reduce Jessie silent and immobile.

You gotta admire the degree of intimidation those Imperial Guardsmen CO's command.

It always happens. I don't know how but I guess it comes part of the job.

Of course, whether it's natural or hammered in during the job training process is debatable.

But enough of my ponderings – The look on Jessie's face spoke volumes of the intimidation she received from Bishop's presence.

I swallowed.

Better take one for her I guess.

After all when you're faced with someone with such presence, the only thing you can rely on is the truth.

"We did encounter the greenskins" I said "But it was only one of them"

Bishop responded by giving me a hardened stare.

"One?" he echoed.

"Yes" I replied, jerking my thumb towards the location where the corpse still lay "He's still over there so if you don't believe me. Why don't you take a look for yourself? It's not like he's going anywhere"

In hindsight that was far from the best thing to say. Having too been part of Imperial Guard myself, I understood all too well that the punishment of issuing a CO with such cheek.

He glared at me with the eyes that usually come from the type of person who is merely seconds from breaking every bone in your body

Indeed, I expected Our Fearless Leader to grasp his newly-acquired lasgun and ram the butt of it into my face. Or, failing that, use that bionic arm of his to deliver an uppercut strong enough to break my jaw.

All around was silence.

Everyone watched us with tension so great that no one dared to intervene.

Both myself and the onlookers waited for the inevitable fist to the face.

I could sense the anger that was boiling up inside Our Fearless Leader but I wasn't worried even in the slightest. We are the only humans on this planet and we all alone in hostile territory. As such, survival takes top priority over rules and rankings.

After all, being beyond the boundaries of the Imperium pretty much means we can do whatever the hell we like.

No one dared say a word to stop Bishop out of fear of him.

So it was only a matter of seconds before he decided to break my bones.

But to my surprise, no such thing came.

Instead he merely broke off eye contact and turned to the rest of us.

"If a single Ork found his way here, then there must be more nearby" he said firmly "What this means is that we have to move. Pronto"

And with that he turned away from the Wave Serpent and immediately began making his way back up the slope.

We all blinked in amazement at Bishop's actions. This was most unexpected for him to let someone off like this for being cheeky.

Even Deacon seemed astounded – but it didn't take long before he shrugged his shoulders and followed Our Fearless Leader.

Always the loyal follower…..

On the other hand, this incident had left Xerxes even more tense than before. He looked at myself and Jessie, his facial expression a wreck of unease. Then, carrying his treasured discoveries from the Wave Serpent, he proceeded back up the slope.

No doubt he needs all the time in the world to come with some good excuses as to explain what these discoveries were.

I paused, baffled by what had just happened.

Why did Bishop let me off like that? If that altercation that occurred earlier on, between Xerxes and himself, was anything to go by anyone would assume that Bishop insists that his orders be understood and taken without question. As such, there was no room for any cheek or any other smart-arse remarks. As such, I'm surprised that Our Fearless Leader didn't try and smash my face in.

I figured he would have found it necessary to make an example out of me for the benefit of the rest of us. After all, that was a common practice applied by all Commanding Officers in the Imperial Guard. And you only had to look at what happened to Xerxes for a textbook example of that theory being put into action. So it was any wonder as to why he let me off so easily.

Perhaps he's more interested in finding out more about the discoveries he found within the Wave Serpent

An equally likely theory is that maybe he exhausted all of his anger in roughing up Xerxes earlier on.

Or most likely he considers me too valuable to lose….

My gaze hardened. With this thought all other excuses no longer seemed relevant. No other reason held a degree of neither truth nor substance to this revelation.

True, we are all staying together but it's hardly by choice: it's merely in the name of survival. Indeed, being stranded on an Ork World, it's doubtful that any of us would survive on our own.

In that sense perhaps I should feel grateful that he has a degree of respect for my skills that he won't dare lay a finger on me.

Or maybe I should be outraged that his leadership skills demands that he sees us all as tools that he uses as he sees fit.

This last thought filled me with loathing – It seems Our Fearless Leader is an Imperial Guard CO through and through: Far more concerned with achieving the accomplishment of a set mission than worrying about the cost of life involved (after all, being a grunt in the Imperial Guard meant nothing save for being a soldier in one of the countless legions made of an indeterminable number of troops scattered across the galaxy).

Only on this planet we have no set task – apart from saving our own skins.

It seems the environment hasn't changed at all for Bishop – this planet may be inhabited by Orks and far beyond the reaches of the Imperium but it would seem that it's just another battlefield for Our Fearless Leader.

And whilst he may have the best leadership skills out of the six of us, that's not to say that he holds a single iota of concern for the rest of us.

I shook my head in disbelief.

Seems any scum-sucking bastard can become a CO quite easily. You'd think the Imperium was handing out every high-ranking position imaginable like they were hotcakes.

As if constantly watching my back on the Orks wasn't bad enough – No it has to, for some reason known only to the God-Emperor, be made harder due to being with the most unreliable of allies.


	13. Nu

**Title:** Angelus Erroneous: Fabricati Diem

**Author**: Spike

**Chapter:** Thirteen

Bishop, Xerxes and Deacon all made their way back to the slope, leaving me back at the crashed Wave Serpent.

With Jessie.

But I didn't head off after my comrades (I use the term lightly) straight away. Instead I paused – my eye on the alien spacecraft and my mind spinning.

Where did that Wave Serpent come from?

Well apart from somewhere out in the universe.....

Intrigued, I went closer for a closer examination.

"Hey!" Jessie exclaimed "Where ya going?"

I didn't pay her any attention. Instead I walked up to within a foot of the wreck and started brushing away some of the moss.

Underneath, I could see plates, of some unfamiliar metal, that were coloured blue.

I had fought the Eldar before when I was in the Imperial Guard and each time, they were clad in armour each bearing a different colour. It didn't take an Enginseer to determine that this represented different factions. But none of those encounters had me fighting Eldar bearing a blur armour.

To be honest, my knowledge of the Eldar was limited – being a grunt in the Imperial Guard, all one needs to know is who the badguys are and how to stop them (or at least make sure the firing end of a lasgun was aimed at them).

Never mind such details as to why they pose a threat or what their agenda is but as always, the high command usually possess such knowledge.

And naturally, they are never quite willing to share that information....

Well, I would have sought the necessary information on the Eldar but such information is kept under wraps by the Ordo Xenos faction of the Inquisition.

And getting information from the Inqusition is like trying to down an Ork Stompa with a boltgun.

As the Inqusitors are always doing their best to ensure the safety and continued existence of the Imperium of Man.

Such as it is.

I wonder how long this Wave Serpent had been here?

And I wonder what, in that time, had happened to the occupants?

And then an alarming thought hit me:

What if they were somehow still around...?

"Whatcha doing?"

Suddenly a voice jolted me back to reality.

I looked up to see Jessie gazing at me in a peculiar fashion.

"What?" I grunted

"What are you doin'?" she said "Yes that's a Wave Serpent. Don't tell me you haven't seen one before!

"And you were in the Imperial Guard..."

I sighed and softly chuckled to myself

"Well it is kinda ruined" she went on "And I doubt it will be going far in that state"

I shook my head.

"I wonder what happened to the occupants of this ship" I mused.

"They probably found out by the Orks and they all got butchered in a bloody mess!" Jessie answered, all whilst bearing an enormous grin.

I sighed. I just had to ask.

"I've fought Eldar before" I started

"Ah, the good ol' days of killing off scum in the name of the God-Emperor!" Jessie interjected, still grinning her disturbing grin (I've forgotten how many times I've seen her distinctive grin but it still freaks me out every time).

"There was nothing good about them" I growled.

"What makes you say that? What's wrong about killing so many guys in the name of the God-Emperor?"

"Don't you mean what's wrong with killing so many guys full stop?"

"Oh yeah that too"

"Anyway" I said with a sigh of exasperation "I have fought the Eldar before. They are tricky no doubt: They move at incredible speeds, they have bizarre weapons and they can kill anyone many times over before they even know what was coming!"

Upon hearing this, Jessie's facial expression changed: her grin grew even wider and her eyes grew sinister.

"Oh I like the sound of that" she said – her voice growing soft and eager - like she was purring.

I blinked.

"If there were any Eldar from that Wave Serpent and they survived, I would sure like to meet one" she added.

"And then I'll rip his throat out!"

My eyes widened

"Yeah!" she beamed, her eyes ever eager "They'll be so much fun to fight, seeing as we've been fighting Orks for so long!

"Sure wish one would show up: I'll make them wished they'd never survived that crash!"

I sighed in exasperation.

But little could prepare me for what happened next.

For it was then and there that I suddenly saw something:

And my blood ran cold.

It was a tiny red dot.

One that was slowly traversing it's way up Jessie's body, drawing closer to her head.

I recognised the signs and immediately I went into action.

"Jessie?" I said urgently.

Immediately her grin fell.

"What?"

"GET DOWN!"

Suddenly I leapt forward arms outstretched. I dived into Jessie, forcing us both to the jungle floor.

"NARC!" she yelled "What the hell are you doing?!?!?"

She got her answer in the form of a hail of gunfire that came screaming over our heads.

But it wasn't the familiar gun fire which we had heard before: We were used to hearing the sounds of Ork weaponry which were notorious of being loud, crude and as blunt as a squadron of Leman Russ Battle Tanks.

What this was, was something completely different. It was silent, fast and came piercing through the air with a strange aura of grace, which was practically unheard of with the weapons of the 41st millennium.

Unless, of course, it was an Eldar weapon......

Suddenly I realised something.

I was staring into the most brilliant blue eyes I had ever seen.

In a split second I realised what was going on: In my effort to save Jessie I had actually landed.....

…..right on top of her.

Immediately time froze still. All surrounding aspects vanished leaving me, and the prostrate Jessie.

I was finally experiencing a moment I previously dreamt about.

And you know something. It wasn't like what I imagined.

It was in fact better.

Of course, I would've rather had her clothes off but you can't have everything...

Being within such close proximity with Jessie, it wasn't hard to avoid the expression on her face as it slowly grew with bewilderment (No doubt due to her arriving at the same conclusion).

And for an instant everything was forgotten: The Wave Serpent, the recent raid, our comrades, the Orks, and the potential intruder.

The silence was deafening....

What was mattered was I was here with a woman underneath me.

And a damn fine looking woman too

Even if she was completely nuts.

The silence was deafening....

This moment may have so far taken a handful of micro-seconds but for me it seemed to last a full hour.

Damn, it has certainly been a long time since I was in this kind of situation.

But it wasn't long before Jessie's eyes grew with fury.

"What the hell are you doing?" she snapped.

My muscles tensed. Oh this can't be good.

I got my answer soon enough as I felt a knee go to my crotch.

This set off a burst of pain that was unbearable. So much so I instinctively rolled off Jessie and onto the forest floor.

I breathed heavily as Jessie got to her feet. In spite of my pain, I looked over and saw her return my gaze with a gaze of contempt.

Oh well I guess it was good while it lasted....

"You couldn't help yourself couldn't you?" she growled.

"And a kick in the balls is the thanks I get for saving your life?" I retorted.

"From what?"

"That's exactly what I would like to know" I said, getting to my feet.

"What?" Jessie said, her eyes hardening "Are we under attack? From who? Orks?"

At the mere mention of the green-skins, her mouth forming into her distinctive twisted smile

"I wouldn't be too sure about that" I muttered.

Upon hearing this, Jessie's facial expression collapsed with disappointment.

Regardless I continued:

"This may sound bizarre but I think there may have been survivors from the Wave Serpent..."

And in an instant, Jessie's face returned to one of absolute enthusiasm.

"Eldar eh?" she grinned "You think so?"

"It's possible" I said

"What makes you say that?"

"Well for as start they, unlike the Orks, are in hiding. If they were Orks they would've burst out and killed us as messily as bluntly and as bloody as possible.

"But what we have here is someone who would rather shoot at us"

"A sniper eh?" Jessie inquired.

"Seems that way"

"Pah!" she spat "Coward"

I blinked.

"Do you really think there's an Eldar survivor taking pot-shots at us?" Jessie then asked.

I nodded.

"I believe you" she said slowly "That idea doesn't sound bizarre at all

"So where is this bastard?" she then demanded

"What?"

"Assuming that this sniper was just shooting at us, did you see which direction where those shots came from?"

I blinked.

"Now where are this sniper?" she demanded, a psychotic grin across her face "I would sure like to teach him a lesson about being being a coward and hiding in the bushes! He should come out and face me in real combat! And I'd like to see if all Eldar can fight like those Howling Banshees I've heard so much about!!

"Man, I'm sure looking forward to fighting some Eldar! It will sure make a change form fighting the Orks! Hell, if this sniper has been surviving for so long than I'll be more than happy to put them out of their misery!!!

"You know something Narc?" she added "I like your theories. They lead to more foes to be fought!

"You should have more theories more often...."

I sighed.

Suddenly something intervened.

The good news was it wasn't a sniper bullet.

The bad news was it was Deacon.

The big man came towards us a nasty scowl written across his face.

"What have you two been up to?" he growled.

Without waiting for an answer, he went on.

"The Boss Man, Bishop, noticed you'd fallen out of step and out of sight

"So I came to get ya"

I mentally cursed, I would've rathered a sniper's bullet.....

"So what have ya been doing?"

I looked at Jessie. Her enthusiasm had been completely drained – no doubt brought upon by Deacon's sudden arrival. Now she silent and sullen.

And no doubt unwilling to talk.

Which left me pretty much on my own.

"You know something Deacon?" I said "I think we're being followed"

"Really?" The big man sneered "I guess we would be when we're trapped on an Ork World. And you've only just realised this now?"

"No it's not like that!" I retorted "We just got shot at by a sniper!!"

"A sniper" Deacon echoed, his voice unconvinced "What, someone fired on you and you think it wasn't an Ork?"

I said nothing.

Deacon know what I was thinking and his face grew angry.

"You expect me to believe that shit?" he snarled "If I didn't know any better I'd think you two were conspiring something.

"You two aren't planning on stabbing Bishop in the back now are ya?"

"That's absurd" I snapped back "And what would that achieve anyway?"

"I'd figure you want to usurp him and assume control of this group"

"Good idea" I grinned "One thing wrong with it though: I let him become leader"

Deacon paused but then shrugged.

"But the thought of you leading us? That seems hard to believe"

"No, it seems what you're thinking of is you following me" I countered.

"Like I said: Hard to believe"

I immediately fell silent taken aback by this rather blunt statement.

"So tell me" the big man went on "Where is this sniper you so claim?"

"How should I know?" I retorted "You're not supposed to see a sniper"

"Really" Deacon growled "And I suppose you're going to tell me that this sniper was a survivor from the Wave Serpent?"

I didn't reply. Regardless, Deacon continued:

'And I suppose this sniper is watching us from the depths of the jungle, waiting for the appropriate moment to pick us off?"

I still said nothing. Too remained silent.

Suddenly, Deacon snapped.

"Oh get moving!" he thundered "We should've already been out of here. And if you both fall behind, I'll leave you for this sniper for target practice!!"

Exchanging glances, Jessie and myself both commenced marching.

As we went past Deacon, I heard him mutter under his breath:

"And the next time you bullshit me, you won't live long enough to regret it"

Never once did I break stride.

Deacon then took up march behind myself and jessie and three us made our way back up the slope, leaving the ruined Wave Serpent behind.

And so we three made our way from the jungle and back out into the open to rejoin the other three.

Don't know why we were moving out of cover. It seemed more like an easy target for anyone looking for us.

Whether it be green-skins or hidden snipers

Still, I hoped that sniper, if there really was one, chanced upon the idea of taking aim at the back of Deacon's head.

His threat didn't bother me that much: After all, I knew what had happened back there and it was certainly not an Ork: It was someone with a weapon entirely indigenous to this planet and someone with a damn good shooting eye

I sure wished we had someone of that caliber on our side.

Not that would do much good.

Still the presence of a potential third faction was interesting: As if the green-skins and the comrades fate gave me weren't enough.

But still, I don;t see what difference it would make seeing that this is the 41st Millennium, where survival is far from easy.

We hadn't gone far before I turned my head and noticed Jessie.

Her head was lowered and her facial expression was one of despair. There was nothing for her to fight so she had fallen into her more mellow moods.

"You all right there?" I asked

She looked up at me and softly nodded.

"So tell me" I said conversationally "You have any faith in our Our Fearless Leader?"

"Not really" she mumbled.

I quickly cast a gaze over my shoulder. Deacon was keeping an eye on us but his facial expression was blank: Just the sign that I ndeed, to indicate his lack of interest in our conversation.

"You shouldn't be too bothered by Bishop" I said "He's just trying to scare us all into following him"

She looked at me with a quizzical gaze.

Personally, I've never been that good with reassurance but saying something, anything, was better than saying nothing at all.

"Do you think so?" she asked.

"Hey, he's just like every other CO I encountered when I was in the Imperial Guard" I said "Only just as ugly"

Her gaze hardened but she said nothing in reply.

In order to continue a reassuring disposition I smiled – but it came out terribly awkward (now, what did I say about not being too good with all matter relating to reassurance?!).

"You're used to taking orders then?" she asked.

I blinked – this single statement was indeed most unexpected. Nevertheless, I shrugged.

"Yes, I suppose you could say that" I said in a causal manner.

But there was nothing casual about Jessie's reaction. She instead locked me with a malevolent gaze.

I felt my blood run cold – this was the type of gaze I recognised as one of fearlessness, independence and no sign of remorse whatsoever. It was the gaze of a ruthless, merciless killer – someone who isn't just of homicidal indent but one who absolutely revels in it.

"I don't follow orders" she growled "I walk my own path. I do what I choose and I find the idea of conforming to the rules downright offensive."

Already I could feel a cold shiver run down my spine. Jessie was growing more talkative than usual – Which was certainly reason enough for me to shut up.

Now that Jessie had switched from her mellow mood I didn't feel safe any more. And now her erratic moods were presenting something that grew increasingly sinister with each passing second – which gave me all the more reason to back off.

All in all, this wasn't the Jessie I had come to known (well, the one I liked at least). What confronted me instead was a side of the woman that she kept concealed from the rest of us.

And well hidden at that for, from the look of it, good reason.

"I'm only accompanying you all because I don't really have much a choice. But make it known that no one can tame me and no one shouldn't even think of trying. I don't take any sort of such of nonsense from anyone. Not you, not Laertes and definitely not Bishop."

I was at a complete loss as to what to do – as far as I knew I was sharing company with a homicidal maniac. Anything I say or do could result in giving this lunatic reason enough to kill me.

But then again, since when did I start hanging around people not of violent intent? Nowhere near my arrival on this miserable rock that's for sure.

Still, I had every intention of staying alive (or least killing all the Orks on this planet before they kill me).

Besides, constantly watching my back against any possible attempts on my life from Deacon alone was more than enough for me.

"Don't trust anyone else eh?" I muttered "Wise move"

Jessie raised an eyebrow.

"I follow your meaning" I continued "Just because we're the only humans on this planet means we have to work together"

"You certainly got that right" she purred.

"To be honest" I then said "I don't trust Xerxes, Deacon, Laertes and especially not Bishop any more than you do"

Her expression didn't change - obviously not having her name mentioned in my name-dropping may inspire the question as to why she had been excluded. Will she take it as a sign that I trust her? Or a way for me trying to escape having myself torn to pieces?

"So why do you continue to hang around them?" she inquired, her voice adopting a rather sharp edge about it.

I blinked. Her homicidal intent was still present – thus prompting a careful selection of words.

"Because no matter how detestable those bozos are, they are human company. And I favour human company over being on my own on planet inhabited entirely by green-skins"

This argument must have been convincing enough because it immediately sent Jessie silent. Not only that, it resulted in her homicidal gaze disintegrating completely, thus making way for the return of her familiar expression of moroseness.

My gaze hardened.

She didn't utter a single reply, nor did her expression change. Instead she immediately started moving closer towards me.

I could feel my muscles tensing – but as her hands were now hanging limply by her side, they both weren't anywhere near her weaponry.

Jessie continued walking closer towards me.

I grit my teeth, as every sense in me screamed a confrontation was only mere seconds away.

A confrontation and an imminent end of my wretched life.

Jessie continued walking towards me.

An end to my wretched life? It was an intriguing possibility but I wasn't afraid.

Jessie continued walking towards me.

If I was truly to die within such inescapable circumstances, then it shall be a welcome relief after the hell I've been through.

Jessie continued walking towards me.

Of course, there was the possibility of avoiding such a potentially deadly confrontation but I squashed such thoughts out of my brain.

Jessie continued walking towards me.

Besides even if Bishop, Deacon and Laertes would gladly blow me away then there's no way I'm going to give them that opportunity. Thus, if I was really destined to die on this miserable rock then at least I would rather die by Jessie's hand.

Sure it may a betrayal of the position I see her as the only reliable person in this group of renegades but at least she's far better looking than the other life-forms on this rock.

With her head down low to avoid confronting my gaze Jessie walked past, after everyone else.

As she made her way past, I kept a wary eye on her, ready to take action should she decided to strike back at me. To be honest, I wasn't at all prepared to take any chances with her current mood.

But no such move came. She just went past without any sudden movement or anything that resembled a quick strike.

She didn't utter a word or even acknowledge my presence at all.

I blinked in astonishment – I guess this is yet anther example of her moods driving her onward into the most unpredictable of directions

"Hey wait!" I exclaimed

But she didn't utter a single reply. Instead she merely continued walking, acting as if I wasn't there at all.

I raised my eyebrow in a curious manner.

It seems by mentioning the ideal of human company, I must've struck something hard within Jessie.

I'll say this much: Out of the idiots that I have to accompany upon the surface of this miserable rock (as fate has dictated – ain't that always a bitch?), the only one's I know the least about are both Jessie and Deacon. All I know is that they are like the rest of us in that they're both on the run from Imperial Law due to something nasty that happened to them. I have no idea as to where both Jessie and Deacon came from and what they did before the arrival.

Both Jessie and Deacon arrived here at the same time: It was through the wreckage of a prison ship that crash landed on this planet.

It was uncertain as to where the wreck had come from but if the appearance was anything to go by, it seemed was part of a much larger ship that was attacked by raiders of some kind – the ship was attacked and this part of it may have been separated in the mayhem that followed.

The wreck itself wasn't that special in the terms of salvaging: Being a portion of much larger ship, there wasn't much on offer. Nearly all the computers on the shop had been ruined in the crash and the rest weren't that much use. However the ship did contain an excellent range of firearms stored on board – Ya gotta love that prison security.

Being a prison ship, all the occupants were all locked in their own cells. However such was the impact of the crash that the cells were ruined, thus allowing the prisoners (or at least those who didn't die on the impact of the crash landing) a chance to escape. Thus, in amongst the wreckage, there were three survivors: Jessie, Deacon and Laertes.

However, in amongst the wreckage, the only thing that was of any use was the data slats located in the ship records. I took them with me, both in the interests of laughing at the poor sods incarcerated and the sentences they racked up as well as destroying anything that would lead to our own arrest (you can never be too careful).

I have since managed to find the time to look through them all (what else can you do?!) but out of all the data slats I found there, I somehow kept putting off reading Jessie's.

I'm not sure why: There was something about her gleefully homicidal intent that held me back. It was as if there something was in there that was best left unknown. If something happened to her that altered her way of thinking then that would mean I would be dealing something bigger than a Imperator Titan.

I had learned of Deacon's past as mercenary through reading his data slat but even that didn't explain enough.

That being said, it made me wonder if Jessie's secrets were best left that way.

After all, I like to have someone watching my back out in battle and finding out a secret that didn't want to be found creates a potentially fatal threat to that sacred bond of trust.

I had the data slat true and thus I had every opportunity of learning something about their background.

Because there was no way in Hell they were going to tell me themselves!

I have wondered on the possibility of Jessie knowing about me keeping a hold of her data slat.

Not to mention the prospect of her taking action to keep her secrets safe.

It makes me wonder just what she's hiding from the rest of us.....

My mind pondered on all of this as I watched Jessie continue on her way.

Although she had her back to me I could tell she was currently in what the rest of us would call Her Mellow Mood. I could tell in the way she walked and her posture.

This Mellow Mood was pretty much typical of her at the moment – this is what she behaved like, day in, day out. Whilst she was able to interact with the rest of us, to the extent of answering questions, expressing her thoughts and offering suggestions, she wasn't exactly talkative. Being mellow, conversations usually didn't last longer than five minutes.

As well as making conversation difficult, Jessie's mellow mood also made her practically a vegetable: Apart from walking with the rest of us, she didn't make much in the way of movement. And when we weren't walking, she would usually resort to sitting down somewhere and paying little attention to the rest of us.

On the bright side however, Her Mellow Mood was enough to put my mind at ease: When she was in the middle of this mood Jessie, unlike Bishop, Deacon or Laertes, wasn't likely to try and make an attempt on my life me (there was Xerxes yes but who in their right mind would want to spend time in his company?).

But once a combat situation reared its ugly head, Jessie would immediately launch into action, charging into action and using quick movements to drive her sword in all directions.

It made me wonder if her mellow moods were the real deal as opposed to the (increasingly likely) possibility that she was faking it…….

And this possibility was becoming all the more feasible with the new theory that she may be hiding something.

Just what is being hidden on her data slat?

Eventually however I shrugged

"I'll take that as a no then"

I followed her on the way out of the jungle and up the slope

I hadn't gone far when suddenly my ears detected the sound of approaching feet.

Accompanied by the ranting of an all too familiar voice:

"You are all heretics I tell you!"

I groaned. The time apart from the rest of us didn't really do Laertes the good it should have.

Indeed, it was times like these that made we wish he just shoot him. After all, a bolt shell would do a lot more to a difficult associate then solitude.

And I personally speak from experience.

The priest strode along the ridge and into the middle of us all. He barged right up to Bishop and fixed him with an accusing glare.

"I am ashamed of you!" he snarled "Our glorious commander, resorting to the use of alien technology in order to triumph over the Orks! What kind of servant of the Beloved God-Emperor would resort to such blasphemous acts?!"

Amazingly, Bishop didn't bat an eyelid when being confronted with such a rage. What was even more astonishing was the fact that he didn't make any kind of physical contact with the priest: No strike with the fist, no kick with the boot, not even blowing Laertes' head off with the lasgun (which, in retrospect, is what he should've done anyway) or breaking the priest's neck within the vice-like grip of his bionic arm (even better).

"We decided not to use what we found in that Wave Serpent" Bishop said firmly. "Whatever those objects were, the only we can use properly is the lasgun. The rest we'll use as explosives"

Laertes blinked at this and his rage subsided.

"Well I guess that doesn't seem so bad" he said. "I suppose I can live with alien objects being blown up. After all, that's all they are good for anyway…"

* * *

**Author Note:** Well I came back from an extended hiatus to concentrate on this oft-neglected story. Thanks to everyone who have read this and waited patiently for future additions.

You know, I've had enough of gas-bagging about these characters so I do declare it high time that I actually introduced a PLOT. How will this effect future developments? Well for starters, the next chapter will feature some interesting developments AND whole new material! Stay tuned....

In the meantime, please post a Review!


	14. Xi

**Title:** Angelus Erroneous: Fabricati Diem

**Author**: Spike

**Chapter:** Fourteen

And so we left the Wave Serpent behind. Bishop insisted that we had spent too long at the crashed site and the noise we had created will no doubt create unwanted attention. So we carried on along the mountain ridge as quickly as possible.

Not sure why – it wasn't as if we had anywhere to go.

But the thought of that sniper encounter never left me. Sure I wasn't able to bring it up with Deacon watching my back but the thought of someone who was aware of our presence, watching our progress and knowing we exist when we're not supposed to – our singular advantage in this war for survival - was an alarming one.

It was anyone's guess to see how this unexpected third party would have on our mission to stay alive.

Even if we had little left to live for.

The rest of the day progressed quickly. We had made good progress across the long mountain range, attracting little attention from the greenskins. Thus it seemed that Bishop's plan to head this way was bearing fruit.

The mountain range certainly was a large one, being able to cover much distance across it in the space of one afternoon. Above us loomed high mountains that looked steep indeed – It made me wonder what could be hidden up there....

However how much distance we traveled, by the late afternoon, the pace had taken it's toll.

Currently, we had all stopped to rest. Deacon was sitting with his back to a rock and his heavy stubber cradled with an intense grip. Jessie leant against a tree, her face bearing signs of being disinterested – an obvious indication of her Mellow Mood. Xerxes stood keeping watch, his lasgun in hand but his face sullen, no doubt brought about by being threatened by Bishop earlier in the day. But Laertes was pacing in a circle, his face scowling and his lips muttering words under his breath. Bishop meanwhile was scanning the landscape with a viewing scope in hand.

"See anything?" I asked Our Fearless Leader.

"I see.................. Absolutely nothing"came the curt reply.

I groaned. That was before I looked up and noticed Laertes striding towards us a black look across his face.

It was then I groaned even more.

"Bishop!" barked Laertes "Why are we running from the heretics? This is not the will of the God-Emperor!"

"Father" Our Fearless Leader replied calmly "What makes you think we're running away? It's not as if we have any where to go"

"The heathens are down there in the jungle!" the pirest snapped "We're up here in these mountains! We are shrinking back from our sworn duty to the God-Emperor!"

"We're not running away Father" Bishop said "We are merely planning our next move"

"Next move?!" Laertes shouted "What next move I there to make?! The Orks are there and we must bring to absolution! It is the will of the His name!!!"

Bishop paused. Then he turned and faced the priest.

It was then I realised that the rest of the camp had turned silent. Laertes' bellowing had brought all eyes on this drama unfolding between Bishop and the priest.

With the shouting and exasperation, Laertes' face had grown a ferocious red. He looked ready to snap Our Fearless Leader's neck.

And boy wouldn't that be doing us all a favor.

But Bishop didn't bat an eyelid at the angry priest. But then again, being an Imperial Guard lieutenant facing grunts who would rather snap your neck than follow your orders was all part and parcel of the job.

"Tell me something Father" he said slowly "As this afternoon progressed, did you encounter any Orks at all?"

"Of course not!" Laertes bellowed "We've been up here in this mountains whilst the green-skins are done there! We are nowhere near where we need to be!"

"True that" Our Fearless Leader said.

And then he paused.

Laertes fumed as the rest of us gazed in, waiting for what was going to happen next.

The tension was unbearable.

Then, after what seemed like an eternity, Bishop continued:

"Actually I was thinking more along the lines of the noises the Orks make

"The greenskins sure like to make their presence known, right? As such we would've heard them yelling, firing their guns, setting off explosions and generally making as much as possible. Did you hear anything of that kind all afternoon?"

"Funny you should mention that" Xerxes chimed in "I haven't seen any Ork activity of that kind since we discovered the Wave Serpent"

"Obviously we had come in on their off day." Deacon grunted sarcastically.

"I was asking the priest!" Our Fearless Leader barked.

Laertes blinked. Despite his fuming, he still managed to speak:

"Well now that you mention it....No, I haven't heard any activity from the heathens"

"Well then, we haven't been running away then – the enemy has been silent":

And with that he turned away.

I raised an eyebrow.

Silent?

What the hell?

I looked at Laertes – he ground his teeth in disgust before turning away and stalking off. Everyone meanwhile lost interest in the argument and went back to what they were doing.

Leaving me with Bishop.

I blinked, trying to comprehend what I'd just witnessed.

Silent? The Orks being silent?

Impossible! It was unlikely that such a warlike

It may be sign of some relief but not much: there's something about that notion that just didn't sit well.

"What about now?" I asked Our Fearless Leader "Anything shown it's ugly mug?"

Bishop shrugged and lowered his scope.

"Nothing but trees and jungle for miles" he muttered.

"Don't know why you're bothering" I said "It's not we have anywhere to go now do we?"

I chuckled a chuckle that enough cynicism to drive a Shadowsword through. Bishop however, did not laugh.

"Yes we do" he said sternly "We have mission to accomplish"

Upon seeing that he was serious I ceased laughing.

"We are here" Our Fearless Leader went on "To claim this planet for the glory of the Imperium. We may be renegades but that doesn't stop us from doing some good for the God-Emperor"

"You think He cares?!" I yelled "We are all marooned on a planet with no one knowing or caring where we are! Do you really think the God-Emperor will give two creds worth about a bunch of crims on the run?!"

"You got any better ideas?!" Bishop thundered back.

Immediately I fell silent. So did everyone else – now they were looking up at our bickering.

Bishop looked over his shoulder. Realizing he now had an audience, he turned around and sat down, cross-legged with his elbows on his knees and his hands resting under his chin

"Lady and gentlemen" he said "You're probably wondering what Mr. Narc was screaming his guts about"

I mentally cursed as all eyes fell on me. But still no one answered, thus allowing Bishop to continue:

"Well, I have seen some things since arriving on this planet" he said "And it has occurred to me that we have nowhere to go and nowhere to hide."

"You mean you only realized this now?" I growled softly.

No one seemed to hear me as Bishop continued:

Considering we each have a criminal record, which is enough to make the Inquisition raise an eyebrow, and seeing as we're not going to be off this planet any time soon, we may as well make the most of it.

"That being said, what we need a sense of purpose"

"Purpose?" Xerxes spluttered.

I raised an eyebrow – this was the first time since that altercation this morning that Xerxes had spoken out against Our Fearless Leader.

I guess courage truly does come form the oddest places.

Bishop noticed this too.

"That's right, a purpose" he growled "beyond shooting Orks and staying alive!"

"But they're Orks!" Jessie mumbled "They're there to be killed – what more do you need for a purpose?"

"That's right!" Laertes chimed in "This planet is full of heretics that have shunned the God-Emperor and who need us to bring them to light!"

Bishop snapped his fingers.

"Exactly!" he said "Father you've got it in one"

Laertes blinked.

"I have?"

"Yes we have been killing the Orks for so long" Our Fearless Leader went on "So long we should be making more of it.

"So yes the Imperium may not know we're here and most likely doesn't care but if I know one thing is that that the Imperium is always pushing it's boundaries. Whether it be by force in herding hundreds of Space Marines, Imperial Guardsmen or Adeptus Soriatas into battle or through exploration through paying off Rogue Traders or some Navigator house to explore some unknown corner of the galaxy.

"My point is, that it is only a matter of time before we're discovered. Even if we discovered by an exploratory ship or some scout of some kind, it will only be a matter of time before a larger force follows in it's wake."

"So what do we do?" Deacon asked.

"I say we claim this planet for the Imperium!"

My eyes widened in disbelief. Xerxes also looked astonished. The other three exchanged looks.

"Think about it!" Bishop said "If we can kill off enough Orks, then by the time the Imperium will arrive, we'll have done them a great service!"

A stunned silence followed.

Only to be broken by the slow clapping of two hands,

Which happened to be mine.

"Great suggestion" I sneered "Couldn't have thought of a better one. We'll be rescued and we'll become big heroes. We get our own ticker tape parade and I get to drive the cruiser"

"Well there's a first" Bishop snapped back, with sarcasm of his own "It would seem that Mr. Narc has finally agreed to one of my plans"

"I give you credit Bishop" I snarled "You've come up with some far-fetched plans in your time"

"Which have all ended up working one way or another" Our Fearless Leader interrupted.

Well, there was some truth in that but I carried on regardless

"True but out of all your hare-brained plans, this has got to be the most preposterous yet!"

"What, you don't think this is going to work?" Bishop coolly replied "Tell me where you think I'm going wrong. I'll listen"

"But it still won't make a difference" I muttered.

"You got that right, _private_"

"What make you think this won't work then Narc?" Laertes inquired

"Yeah, out with it" Deacon chimed in.

A cold shiver ran down my back at the gunner's voice but I still carried on.

"Well first, do you really think the Imperium will really come to this planet? We are well beyond the Imperial borderline as it is"

"How far?" Bishop countered.

".......Well that I'm not sure of that" I said slowly

"Really...." Deacon growled

"But!" I went on "We have no communication apparatus whatsoever! And the one's I found on the escape pods and your ship showed nothing in range!"

"So what?" Our Fearless Leader snapped "If we can't reach the Imperium, we'll make it come to us"

I blinked. Regardless I went on:

"And that's the next problem. You really think the Imperium will reach this planet?"

"It's not impossible" Bishop said "The Imperium is sending explorers out all the time. If it isn't a large military force than it's a sanctioned Rogue Trader or a Missionary"

"Indeed" Laertes chimed in "You'll be surprised to know how far the Imperial Creed can reach"

But how long will that take?" I argued "It could take years!"

"Well then" Our Fearless Leader grinned "That gives us plenty of time to wipe this planet clean of green-skins, right?"

"Okay then, suppose this plans works: The planet is extinguished of Orks and the Imperium arrives. Then what?"

"We get acknowledged for our efforts and we get pardoned"

"Bullshit!" I shouted "We're trapped on an Ork World! Do you have any idea what will happen to us if we're discovered?

"We won't be pardoned at all! Most likely we will be executed as criminals! And at best the Imperium won't recognize our _heroic deeds _immediately: No, they will see us more as a threat in being on an Ork world for so long!"

"Meaning?" Xerxes asked

"They will see as coming into contact with the Greenskin genes and bacteria. This planet will be terraformed and eradicated of any trace of the Orks. This then leaves us to the mercy of Imperial scrutiny"

"What will they do?" the Rogue Trader inquired.

"They will either kill us or keep us in quarantine" I replied "And considering we're all wanted as criminals, it would be easier to dispose of us than hang onto us

"Heroes or not"

A silence hung over our group, each of us looking thoughtful over the the point I had made.

Even Deacon seemed to take heed

But it didn't take long for Bishop to clear his throat.

"You know" I challenged "I figured that being an Imperial Guard lieutenant you world know about shit like that"

"I'm surprised that you know about this" Bishop growled "You seem to know an awful lot for a Grunt"

I felt a cold chill run down my spine. Although I couldn't see him, I could sense Deacon was readying his heavy stubber.

"You know what they say" I said "You gotta know a lot in order to survive here in this universe"

"So tell me genius" Our Fearless Leader growled "If my idea is hopeless, then what are we supposed to do? Sit around and wait for death to come and claim us all?

"If you've got any better ideas than out with them!"

Immediately all eyes turned to me, waiting for my ultimate response.

"If you have better idea for survival than let's hear it" Bishop snarled.

And it was then that something snapped.

"All right then!" I burst out "I have a better idea! I'm quitting!"

Xerxes and Jessie blinked. Laertes and Deacon hardened their faces. Bishop however chuckled.

"So that's your idea of survival?"he sneered "For all of us? Having you go out on your own?

"Well I can see how having one less to worry about helps me..."

"Narc?" Jessie asked "Are you for real?"

"Bah!" Laertes snapped "He's running away! He's a coward, shirking from his duty to the God-Emperor!"

"And what if I am?!" I shouted "He hasn't been exactly generous with giving me some lucky breaks!"

"You heathen!" Laertes roared

"SILENCE!" bellowed Bishop.

Immediately the bickering abruptly with the sound of Our Fearless Leader's voice (how does he do it?)

He then fixed me with a steely gaze.

"So Narc you think you can do better in making decisions and progress?"

I nodded.

"Well then" he growled "Prove it"

"You bet I will!"

"Okay then" Bishop snapped "Everyone? He's in charge now"

WHAT?!?

Everyone was taken aback by this sudden announcement. So much we all staretd speaking at once.

"What? No way! Are you serious?!"

Bishop raised his hands for silence.

"You heard me" he announced "I'm relinquishing my command. My. Narc thinks he can do a better job than me at keeping you alive so you can now follow him"

I spluttered in disbelief but no words came out.

"I'm going to hunt down those Orks and claim this planet for the God-Emperor" Bishop declared "As for the rest of you, have him guide you out of here"

And with that, he turned and headed down the slope, to the jungle.

This left me with four pairs of eyes all turned towards me, all looking for guidance, answers and a plan so we can all keep living.

None of which I had.

Oh, this just keeps getting better and better....


End file.
